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killerelysia · 2 days ago

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Pardonnez-moi, Monsieur!- Solivan brugmansia x Yan!G.N Reader! (Part 2!)

The kid at the back is a 18+ visual novel Minors don't interact!

Words:9000

Genre: Yandere-(Self aware yandere won the poll)

Summary: You’ve become consumed by your obsession with Solivan Brugmansia. What started as innocent curiosity quickly spiraled into a fixation. He started it and you began to stalk him, learning every detail about his life. You felt a sick sense of satisfaction in making Sol’s world safer while growing increasingly delusional about your connection with him. Your love for him deepens as you fantasize about the future, convinced that you are the one who truly understands him—better than anyone else. Despite the line between reality and obsession blurring, you remain certain: Sol is yours, even if he doesn’t know it yet.. You're his and he's yours...

( Reader is a g.n!)-

Trigger Warning: This content contains themes of obsessive behavior, stalking, manipulation, mental instability, and delusional thinking, Drugging, Yandere?, Hopeless in love for attention Please read with caution.

Obsessive behavior: The reader becomes dangerously fixated on someone, bordering on stalking and delusion.

Manipulation: The reader engages in schemes to control or harm others, often through deception.

Mental illness: Delusional thinking, possible dissociation from reality, and unhealthy fixation on someone.

Violence: There are references to bullying, physical harm, and emotional manipulation.

Emotional abuse: Both in terms of how the protagonist manipulates others and how they might internalize toxic behaviors.

Stalking: The reader watches and follows the person they are obsessed with.

EXTRA: He's a character from a game named The kid at the back!! Note, The relationship presented here between sol and reader is extremely toxic!! In no way, Just because I'm writing doesn't mean I support this kind of toxicity. Note, It's okay to like sol if you know the flaws and don't be a blind eye on them! Again, I don't support his actions etc! If you hate sol ignore this.

It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee.

DAY 1: The Beloved

“I will not accept one paragraph! I need two whole pages filled with words. Everyone got that?”

The teacher’s voice grated on your ears like nails on a chalkboard. Not that the assignment was hard—you could churn out two pages in your sleep if you wanted to. Writing wasn’t the issue. No, the real problem was the waste.

Two pages of meaningless drivel on some boring topic when you could be filling those pages with him. Words dedicated to Sol, the way his green-streaked hair falls just so, the sharpness of his jawline, the way he speaks as if he’s barely trying and yet every word hooks you like a line to the heart. Two pages about Sol? Easy. Two pages about anything else? Insulting.

You shift in your seat, feeling the familiar burn in your chest. It’s not anger exactly—it’s this gnawing, this aching thing that starts deep inside you every time someone pulls your focus away from him.

And your journal. Oh, your journal. You’d filled its pages with his name, over and over again. Sketches of him, even ones of the two of you together—his hand in yours, his lips grazing your cheek. Perfect. You flip it closed quickly, sliding it under your textbook as a passing student glances your way. No one gets to see those. They wouldn’t understand.

You glance at the clock. The rooftop. You’re running out of time. You bite your lip and glance at the book again. Just one more sketch… no, focus!

The doodle of you and Sol holding hands stares back at you. It’s so cute, you can’t help the small giggle bubbling in your throat. What would he think if he saw this? Would he call it pathetic or perfect? Would he notice the details? The way I drew him smiling?

The smile falters. No.

Not yet. He doesn’t get to see this yet—not until it’s perfect. Not until you are perfect.

With a deep breath, you slam the book shut and stand, forcing the manic swirl of thoughts into a neat little box in the back of your mind. Control. Stay calm. Don’t let anyone see.

There’s plenty of time to admire him later. For now, you’ll play along, just like always.

But inside, your thoughts swirled, chaotic and relentless. You could feel the edges of your obsession creeping in, clawing at your composure.

Why Sol? Why does he get to me like this? Is it his smile? The way his voice sounds like music when he talks to Hyugo about me? Maybe it’s his obesseion Or maybe it’s because I’m just...

You paused, staring blankly at the paper in front of you. Messed up. Rotten. Broken. No wonder I’m drawn to him. He’s the only one who makes me feel like I could be fixed.

You shook your head, banishing the thought. No time for self-pity. You had to get to the rooftop soon, and you couldn’t go up there acting like some lovesick fool.

Standing up from your seat, you were about to grab your bag when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Turning around, you saw Brittney—the Chipette—no, Crowe’s friend. Her. You pause, giving her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she’s trying to talk to you, pretend to be friendly. It must be Crowe’s idea. Of course, it is. Brittney doesn’t do anything without some ulterior motive, right? Sharp tongue wrapped in hard words. But… maybe she’s different. she’s kind. Sometimes, she actually tries. It's just she's bad at talking.

A fallen angel in disguise.

You tilt your head slightly, watching her fumble. She doesn’t know how to approach you. Does she think I’m some kid who needs to be scolded? Her nervous glance tell you that. She’s probably going to say something about how wrong it is to obsess over Sol. Does she know? She doesn't know. No one knows.

And Sol isn’t a “kid.” He’s perfect. He’s 6’ of celestial art, every inch of him carved like he was meant to be worshipped, adored. He’s everything. You feel your pulse quicken just thinking about him.

“Hey, you’re going to lunch with us, right?” Brittney starts, pulling you back. “I mean, you should. I don’t usually see you in the cafeteria nowadays, so you must not be eating properly…”

You blink at her. Lunch? The cafeteria? You don’t go there anymore. Not since Sol.

Because Sol hates it. He hates the noise.

He didn’t say it outright, of course. He doesn’t have to. You know it. You feel it in the way he moves, in the small looks he gives the space, in the way he brushes off people there. It’s loud. It’s annoying. He doesn’t like it. So you don’t like it either.

It’s one of the small ways you show your love for him, even if he doesn’t know. Even if no one knows. You don’t need their approval. You don’t need their judgment. You learned to cook, after all! Sol likes to cook too. Isn’t that just fate? It’s like the universe tying you together, thread by thread.

You learned to decorate your food everyday so when he sees he can smile. You made sure to change your wallpaper to a pumpkin so when he might try to check, he will think you like them..

Its all for him..

You always come early, leave your food on your spot on the rooftop so you can watch him later. Just watch. When he’s with Hyugo, you catch glimpses of their meals. Sol always seems to cook for him.

Sol cooks for Hyugo…

Your chest twists. Your grip tightens on your bag.

You wonder when it’ll be you. When will it be you he cooks for? When will you be the one he eats with, laughs with, looks at? Domestic, happy, married—together, forever.

"We will be a happy family together, right Sol? Don't we be together forever...?"

The thought makes your stomach flutter, your lips twitch into an almost-smile. You’re almost dizzy with it. Wouldn’t that be perfect? Wouldn’t that be just right? Sol and you, a home, no one else, just the two of you…

Your breath catches. Stop. Not here. Not in front of her. Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it—

“Hello? You okay?” Brittney’s voice pulls you back.

You blink. Smile. Tilt your head like nothing’s wrong. “I’m fine,” you say, even though you can still feel that wild, spiraling need thrumming in your chest.

Sol would be proud of how well you can hide it. Don’t you think?

You were about to refuse politely, maybe even brush her off, but then Brittney added something that made your blood freeze.

"How can you keep up with classes looking like that? You look like you haven't slept in months. You almost look like a crazed person."

Excuse me?

The words hit like a slap, a harsh reminder of how others saw you. You felt your skin flush, the urge to lash out simmering beneath the surface. No one, no one, was supposed to notice that. Not her. Not anyone. She didn’t know what you were really up to—how could she?

But you caught yourself, staring at her without blinking, trying to suppress the bitter taste in your mouth. You had to hold it together. She was just… clueless. Clueless in the same way everyone else was. She didn't know what you did, how you spent your nights, how you fed your obsession, how you kept everything in line. To her, you were just the weird, sleep-deprived kid who could barely hold it together in class.

You blinked slowly, trying to keep your expression neutral. Don’t let her see how much her words hurt. No one was supposed to see that. You felt a little… off, but you didn’t let it show. You were in control, at least, on the outside.

She realized, too late, that she'd crossed a line. The awkwardness in the air was thick, and you could almost see the regret flicker behind her eyes. Maybe she felt sorry for you? But no, it wasn’t pity. It was something else. Something… less clean.

In truth, you felt a small pang of something almost like guilt. It was strange. You felt… bad for her? You knew Brittney had no idea what she was stepping into. How could she? She wasn’t part of this world you had so carefully constructed, a world that only you understood. She was just someone who thought she was being kind, trying to make conversation.

You sighed softly, resisting the urge to show any emotion. She didn’t deserve to feel bad about it. No, she didn’t deserve that.

"That's really insensitive of you! Imagine if someone else told you about how you look," Crowe’s voice cuts through, a protector once again.

You glance at Brittney. Ugh, such a showoff, trying to play the hero. You barely let it phase you, though. You’re above this.

"Brittney’s just trying, Crowe, I don’t really take offense,” you say, smiling sweetly, but it’s more for your own benefit than anyone else’s.

Crowe looks at you, clearly taken aback. Oh, poor Crowe, so clueless. He thought you’d be hurt? You almost giggle at his innocence.

“Well, you’re the one who insisted on me initiating talk. If you really want to rescue them, there are better ways to be their prince charming, Crowe.” You throw a playful smirk his way. This game’s so easy. He’s trying so hard… for what?

You snicker, watching his face twist in confusion. God, he’s like a lost child when their momma takes away their candy. It’s almost adorable…

"You could’ve done it more nicely, you know. A simple invite would’ve sufficed,” he murmur, you still have the sweet smile plastered across your face. He’s pushing so hard for attention. What’s he trying to prove? You don’t need more friends. Friends are just competition… people getting in the way of your Sol. It's a distraction.

You glance over at the three people you know in the circle—one of them, Subaru. The thought of him nearly makes your stomach churn. Such a fool. You shake your head.

Love is what makes a Subaru a Subaru

You choke on your own thoughts, trying to push the smile from your face. Shut up, Y/n. Just shut up for a second. That quote doesn't deserve Geo

“Damn Brit, you sure are bad at socializing! Hey, Geo! Looks like you’ve got competition!” Deryl’s voice cuts in, a stupid grin spreading across his face.

Brittney’s face turns red. You feel your lips curl into a soft, dangerous smile. Time to save the poor thing.

"At least she tries something," you say, cutting into the moment. "Unlike Mr. Scaramoose over here… Mister Deryl Helianth. It’s okay…"

Deryl’s eyes widen. "You know my full government name?!?" The jock is practically bouncing with excitement. How cute. He thinks it matters.

You smile sweetly. "No, not at all." You really didn’t need to know anything about him. You’ve just been collecting information on everyone. Your eyes flick over to the name data you’ve carefully pulled from the class roster. But Sol’s name isn’t on there… why isn’t his name listed? The thought itches at the back of your mind. I’ll check the Art class today.

Sigh…

"They must have gotten it from the student council. You helped me a lot that day, Y/n. Thanks," Crowe says with a soft smile. Oh, how genuine. How sweet.

But you did it for yourself, didn’t you? You did it to make sure you knew everything about him. To see if Sol was in the same room. Same class..

Any class...

Crowe’s obliviousness is almost painful, but you don’t let it show.

You shake the thought away. Sol, Sol, Sol. There you go again, thinking about him. You feel a silly, wild smile threatening to take over your face. Great job, Y/n. You almost look like a crazy person again.

“Shut the fuck up, Deryl!” Brittney screeches, saving you from your own spiraling thoughts.

You sigh in relief. Finally, a distraction.

While they bicker, you look at Geo, sticking your tongue out. You know it’ll annoy him, and that’s just too fun to pass up. His angry gaze snaps to you. You flash him your sweetest, most angelic smile in return.

Oh, Geo… you think, enjoying his discomfort just a little too much. You turn your gaze to the meek girl beside Brittney, Jess, who’s been silent the whole time. Poor thing. Probably doesn’t even realize how much you hate her existence.

“Sorry,” He says putting on a sympathetic voice. “They’re kind of a rowdy bunch, huh?”

Crowe laughs, scratching the back of his head. “You’re the most normal person I know, Y/n.”

Normal? Oh, if only you knew. If only he could see the things you hide. The way your mind swirls with dark thoughts. The plans you’ve already made.

"Normal?" You smile sweetly again. "Yeah, sure!"

Normal? Sure, if that’s what they want to think. But behind those eyes of yours, it's a whole different story. Behind those closed doors, in the stillness of your room, you sit there, mapping out every move Sol makes. Watching. Waiting. Planning.

You’ve got this figured out. It’s mutual craziness, isn’t it? Stalking is just a step closer to true love, right? After all, Sol’s already there, watching you too.

Crowe introduces Jess to you, and you can’t help but pinch her cheek. Just like Sol would. Your heart skips a beat at the thought, the way you’d touch Sol the same way, so tenderly, so possessively.

You smile, your eyes glazing over, lost in the fantasy.

"Thank Beyonce," you think, when Brittney screams again, snapping you out of your daydream.

"Are you coming with us or what?" Brittney asks, her voice cutting through the haze of your thoughts.

Geo and Deryl exchange whispers. You don’t hear the words, but the feeling between them is thick, charged. Geo glances at you, his eyes narrowing, an intensity behind them that makes your stomach twist in knots.

You just smile and shrug. “I’m not coming. I’ve got to do something about the assignment.”

Crowe furrows his brows, unsure. “Are you sure?”

Geo pushes him out of the way, throwing a glance at you. His eyes are cold, pissed off. But why? Why would he be mad?

You don’t care. “Yeah, I’m sure. I want to see how the show plays out today, just like yesterday. Like the day before. And so on.”

You giggle, the insanity behind your eyes barely concealed. “Thanks, George of the Jungle!”

Geo hisses under his breath, storming off. Good riddance.

Finally, you’re alone, the game once again in your hands.

You approached the usual vent that led to the rooftop, your thoughts on the familiar, quiet solitude awaiting you there. You needed it more than ever. But as you got closer, your heart sank. The vent… it was blocked. A large metal panel, freshly installed, covered the usual opening.

You froze for a moment, blinking in disbelief, your mind racing. No, no, no… This was your only escape. Your only way to break free from the suffocating weight of everything. You reached forward, pressing your hand against the cool metal, but it didn’t budge. It felt like the world itself was closing in around you.

Your gaze shot over to the construction worker nearby, the one handling some tools by the wall. You quickly approached him, a sense of urgency bubbling in your chest. "Hey, what's going on with the vent?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

He looked up, wiping his brow before answering. “Oh, that? A tall student, Subaru, complained about the vents being damaged. The university decided to get it fixed right away. They’re installing some new system to keep people from sneaking up through there. Too many people have been climbing in and out, I guess. They said it needed to be blocked off.”

Your blood ran cold as the realization hit you like a sledgehammer. Subaru. That tall, irritating… Scaramouche wannabe.

Damn it.

You almost couldn't breathe, the frustration building inside you so quickly it hurt. You clenched your fists so tightly, your nails dug into your palm. It was him. That bastard had complained about the vents just to block your access. He knew! He knew how much you relied on that small escape, that bit of freedom. And now it was gone—ruined because of his petty complaint.

“Wait," you snapped, your voice dangerously low, "Can you fix it? Please. I need to get through." You could feel the heat rising to your face, a mix of anger and panic. You had to get up there. You had to see Sol. There was no other way.

The construction worker shook his head. “Sorry, kid. They’ve already decided to seal it up. The system’s being locked down. No going through there anymore. If it's rooftop just use the damned stairs. Even then, kids are not gonna listen. Even grownups like you are idiotic."

But you use it for...Rooftop so they can't see

Your world tilted, your vision narrowing. No… no! You could feel your chest tightening, the walls closing in. You were so close. You were this close to seeing him, to feeling something again, but now it was slipping through your fingers.

Geo, that fucking prick! Your heart raced with frustration, your mind spinning. Why did he have to ruin everything?

You bit your lip hard enough to taste blood, the urge to scream rising inside you. It wasn’t fair. You couldn’t even reach Sol now, because that damn fool had gotten in the way. You paced in front of the blocked vent, your mind unraveling. You tried to breathe, tried to think of something—anything—but all that came to mind was the surge of anger that made your head spin.

You turned away abruptly, fist clenched tightly at your side, barely holding back the raw frustration that threatened to burst out of you. "Fucking bitch," you muttered under your breath. You didn’t even realize the words had escaped until they echoed through the air.

You cursed under your breath again, letting the anger rage inside you like a storm, unable to quell it. All that rage, all that tension was boiling over, and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

You stood there, Your fingers trembled as you tried to think of another way. The stairs, you thought. The staircase that led to the rooftop—it was a long shot, but maybe you could get up there without anyone noticing.

You glanced around, hoping no one was watching. The stairway to the other side of the rooftop was a bit more hidden, so if you were careful, maybe—just maybe—you could sneak your way up without anyone spotting you. Your mind raced, trying to calculate the risks. There was a chance they’d notice you going up, but you didn’t care. You had to see him today. It wasn’t a choice anymore—it was an obsession, a need, a desperate craving.

You made your way toward the stairwell, a strange mix of hope and anxiety flooding your chest. Just be quiet, don’t get spotted… you repeated to yourself like a mantra.

But the moment you stepped into the stairwell, you felt something shift inside of you. What if they catch you? What if they find out? The thought of someone seeing you make your way to the rooftop, of someone witnessing you sneak away like this, made your stomach churn. The fear crawled up your spine, but you couldn’t stop now. You had to do this for yourself.

You tried to silence the little voice that whispered doubts in your ear. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about being caught.

But the stairs—the stairs were the wrong ones. You turned the corner too fast, your heart pounding louder with every step. You’d entered the wrong pair of stairs, a different exit leading to an entirely different side of the building. A side where the students could see you—where he could see you. The panic rose in your throat. No, no, no… You cursed under your breath.

The walls felt like they were closing in around you. Your hands gripped the railing tightly, trying to steady yourself as your chest tightened with dread. It’s too much. It’s too risky. You’ll be caught.

The weight of it all hit you then, the tears pricking at the back of your eyes. Sol… you can’t even see him anymore. You’re losing everything.

A soft sob escaped your lips, quickly smothered by the desperate need to control yourself. You wiped your eyes, but they wouldn’t stop, your tears betraying you. Why was it so hard? Why did everything feel like it was slipping through your fingers?

You felt small, insignificant, lost in a world that was spinning too fast. Why did it have to be so hard? Why couldn’t you just have a simple moment with him? To see his face, to be near him, to exist in his world for just a little while.

Your breath hitched again, sobbing softly to yourself, trying to stifle the noise. You hated how weak you felt, how exposed you were. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to be crying over something so ridiculous, over something you couldn’t control. But in that moment, you didn’t care. You just wanted to see him.

You needed him.

Why couldn’t you just be normal? you thought bitterly, wiping your nose as you swallowed the lump in your throat. Why did it have to be so complicated? Every day felt like a fight—a fight against yourself, against your own cravings, against everything pulling you toward him.

The sobs were quiet, but they felt so loud in the silence of the stairwell. You felt pathetic—helpless, even. But there was no turning back now. You had to get to the roof. You had to see him.

You blinked hard, forcing your tears to stop. It was time to take action. Be sneaky, be careful. You can do this.

You wiped your face, sucked in a breath, and kept climbing the stairs, hoping that just one more turn would lead you to him.

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling as you reached the rooftop, your breath shaky and uneven. The cool breeze barely brushed your face, but the overwhelming sense of sadness flooded your chest, crushing it under its weight.

Sol… Sol… where are you? Your heart hammered painfully in your chest as you looked around, searching desperately. But the rooftop was empty. No sign of him. Not a shadow, not a glimpse.

You felt a sob tear through your chest, the tears flowing freely as your eyes glazed over with an almost feverish kind of longing. Why isn't he here? you thought with a sort of irrational desperation. But deep down, you knew. It wasn’t about finding him here on the rooftop. It was about needing him so badly that it felt like your insides were turning to ash.

Your vision blurred with the endless cascade of tears, and your head dropped, defeated. A few soft sobs escaped you, echoing in the emptiness. Why did it hurt so much? You didn’t care that the tears were endless, that the ache in your heart was growing. It felt both agonizing and strangely satisfying.

Your eyes were wide, lovesick and sad, the desperation leaking out of every pore. You couldn’t stop the thoughts from spinning. I need him… I need him so badly… It hurt, but the hurt was like some sick form of comfort. Every pang of longing, every tear that slipped from your eyes only added to the twisted ache that thrummed in your chest.

You wiped your face, but it didn’t matter. The tears kept coming, flowing out like some uncontrollable river.

Sol… you whispered softly to yourself, your voice trembling.

You felt so small, so lost in this need for him, yet at the same time, you felt alive. Alive in a way that only came with this kind of madness. This kind of longing.

And it felt so good.

A high, sick laugh that made your stomach churn. You couldn’t even believe it yourself, but there it was—uncontrollable and desperate.

"Ha…ha…haha…" you whispered to yourself, almost crazed with it, your tears mixing with your laughter in a strange, disorienting way. It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t healthy. But it felt right. It felt like it made sense in some deranged, twisted way.

And still, you looked around, trying to get a glimpse, even just a hint of him. But there was nothing. The emptiness was deafening.

You wiped your face, but it didn’t matter. The tears kept coming, flowing out like some uncontrollable river.

Sol… you whispered softly to yourself, your voice trembling.

You felt so small, so lost in this need for him, yet at the same time, you felt alive. Alive in a way that only came with this kind of madness. This kind of longing.

And it felt so good.

The rooftop’s chill stung your tear-soaked cheeks, and you were ready to leave with a heavy heart when an unfamiliar voice caught your attention. It wasn’t Sol’s—no, you’d know his voice anywhere—but someone else entirely. You walked fo the sound of the voice cautiously, you spotted Hyugo.

He stood a few steps away, holding a phone to his ear, speaking in a language you couldn’t quite identify. His tone was firm, measured, but whatever he was saying wasn’t your concern. You were only focused on how this wasn’t Sol.

Still, you watched for a moment longer, curiosity briefly flickering through your sadness. You took a step back, intending to leave unnoticed. But just as you turned, a hand clamped down on your shoulder, freezing you in place. Your heart jumped to your throat as you felt his breath near your neck and something cold—too cold—pressed against your skin.

A knife.

"Who are you? Speak, unless you want to get yourself into big trouble," Hyugo said lowly, his voice sharp and unforgiving.

"I’m—uh, Y/n L/n of class 4-B! Please don’t kill me!" you stammered, panic slipping through every word. You couldn’t help but hope—no, pray—that he’d recognize your name as someone Sol would vouch for, even if it was just in your own delusional mind.

The grip on your shoulder slackened slightly. Relief bloomed in your chest, though it was short-lived as Hyugo shifted, striking a pose that reminded you of Sherlock Holmes—a pose you knew he adored. You’d overheard him ranting about it to Sol once, and that memory made you laugh internally. Sol’s pained expression had been adorable.

But now wasn’t the time for that. You were trapped here, and Hyugo seemed more amused than threatening at this point. His eyes narrowed as he muttered, “Y/n L/n… Why does that sound familiar? Class 4-B too…”

You rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath, “Probably because you won’t stop teasing Sol about me.”

Foolishly, you threw a punch in frustration, aiming for his smug face. Hyugo caught your fist with ease, still holding that ridiculous Sherlock pose. The corner of his lips twitched in amusement as he tightened his grip on your hand, making you wince.

"Sol, save me from this bitch," your thoughts screamed as you glared at Hyugo, who seemed all too entertained by your antics.

Hyugo clapped his hands together in mock prayer, bowing with theatrical flourish. “I remember now! What impeccable timing, Y/n!” he said, his voice dripping with faux gratitude.

You stared blankly. What was he doing?

“I need your help,” he continued, straightening up dramatically. “You see, I have a familial emergency and can’t attend my next class. I promised my partner I’d be there, though, and since you’re from the same class… could you take over for me?”

You blinked, incredulous. “What kind of person are you? You just threatened me with a knife, and now you’re asking for favors? What are you, some yakuza kid?”

Hyugo’s smug smile faltered for a moment before his eyes widened in realization. “Oh,” he muttered, fixing his posture. Then, as if nothing happened, he threw you a wink and a thumbs up. “The name’s Hyugo Sugimoto! From class 4-A!” he declared proudly. “But I take mixed classes with Mister Allan to catch up on some, uh… subjects I missed last year.”

You folded your arms, unimpressed. His attempt at charm wasn’t working, especially when he pulled out his knife again, dangling it casually. “It’s for self-defense,” he explained, launching into an unnecessary monologue. You stopped listening entirely, your mind already halfway to its breaking point.

But then, something in his tone shifted. The goofy grin fell from his face, replaced by a much more serious expression.

“Do you have friends, Y/n?”

You recoiled slightly, the question catching you off guard. “Yes, I do,” you shot back defensively.

Hyugo tilted his head. “Yeah, but don’t you ever feel like… you’re doing too much for them?”

The words struck a chord, silencing you. Was he talking about Sol? Your chest tightened, but you refused to let it show.

“He’s not the best guy out there,” Hyugo said, and you winced. You knew Sol wasn’t perfect. His methods were unconventional, his actions borderline obsessive—but that was fine. You loved him. You understood him. Your relationship thrived on the kind of chaos no one else could grasp.

“But you…” Hyugo continued, his gaze unwavering. “Maybe you’ll be the one who understands him.”

Your breath hitched. “I do,” you murmured, so quietly you weren’t sure he even heard.

You smiled faintly, a flicker of something almost kind crossing his face. “I’m sure Solivan Brugmansia appreciates what you do.”

The mention of Sol’s full name sent your heart racing. You froze, staring at Hyugo, trying to process the weight of his words.

Hyugo clapped his hands suddenly, breaking the tension. “So please, be his partner in Art Appreciation!” he pleaded, his dramatic energy returning full force. “He needs someone who gets him! He needs someone like you!"

Your mind spiraled. Was the next class Sol’s? Could it really be? Your lips parted in shock, but before you could speak, Hyugo’s expression darkened. “Wait,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Did you just say his name?”

You blinked, regaining some composure. “What? No. You misheard me,” you said, feigning calmness. Manipulation came naturally to you, and you knew how to keep your face unreadable. “I never opened my mouth."

It was weird.

Hyugo dropped to his knees in a dramatic, pleading pose, resembling a pitiful clown more than the dangerous man who had just threatened you moments ago. His serious tone dissolved into a mess of blubbering theatrics.

“Please! I’m begging you! Be his partner!” he wailed, hands clasped as if in prayer.

“Alright, alright! I’ll do it! Just get the hell up already!” you snapped, exasperated.

Hyugo’s eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “You mean it? Thank you, Y/n! I knew you were the right person for this!” He shot up, nearly knocking you over in his enthusiasm.

“His name is Sol! Solivan Brugmansia! Don’t worry, you won’t miss him!” he said brightly, grinning ear to ear.

Your heart stopped. Sol. It was Sol. A jolt of electricity shot through you like the world had just revealed a cosmic secret. This was how you were going to meet him for the first time? Your head spun, and you couldn’t decide if you wanted to scream, laugh, or cry.

Without waiting for a reaction, Hyugo gave you a firm pat on the shoulder, his demeanor softening just enough to catch you off guard. “Crying doesn’t suit people like you, Y/n,” he said, his voice oddly sincere. Then, just as suddenly, he turned on his heel and sprinted off, leaving you stunned in the middle of the rooftop.

Your thoughts swirled, tangled in emotions you couldn’t even name.

You felt the tears still clinging to your cheeks, but instead of sadness, an uncontrollable smile spread across your face. The weight of earlier despair evaporated as Hyugo's words echoed in your mind. Solivan Brugmansia… you’ll be his partner…

Your heart leaped as you imagined him, the way his name rolled off your tongue like a song written just for you. “Ahhh… Sol!” you squealed softly, bouncing in place like an overjoyed child. You hugged yourself, spinning in a circle with daydreams overtaking reality.

This was better than any rooftop sighting—this was fate pulling the strings of your love story! Your knees wobbled as you imagined what it would be like sitting beside him, sharing notes, the way his hand might brush yours while pointing at something in a textbook. Your daydreams spiraled into a symphony of possibilities, each one sweeter than the last.

You clutched your chest dramatically, the hopeless romantic in you fully awakened. “He’s perfect,” you murmured, giggling as your face burned with a lovesick blush. You jumped again, unable to stop yourself from squealing, “I love him!”

Lost in your swirling thoughts, you didn’t even notice the bell ringing in the distance.

There's still. Time. I'll head to Library...For.. Maybe assignment.

You stepped into the library, the comforting mix of coffee and aged books wrapping around you like a soft blanket. Normally, this was your safe haven—a place to sketch and dream without interruption. Your perfect little corner, tucked away from prying eyes, was waiting.

But today… everything shattered the moment you saw him.

Your heart came to a screeching halt, and your lungs forgot how to breathe. There, sitting at one of the tables, completely absorbed in his book, was him. Solivan Brugmansia.

Your legs locked in place, and every gear in your brain shifted into overdrive. You couldn’t move, couldn’t think—just stare. His long fingers lightly turned the page, the soft motion oddly captivating. His sharp jawline framed his face, leading up to cheekbones so defined they looked like they were carved from marble. His dark, slightly wavy hair fell messily over his forehead, catching the faint sunlight streaming through the window.

His lashes were long, casting delicate shadows over his cheeks as his eyes—those intense, unique hues you couldn't forget—traveled across the words in his book. The air around him felt magnetic, an invisible force pulling you closer, drowning you in admiration. His lips moved faintly as if he were silently mouthing the words, and you almost melted on the spot.

It hit you all over again. This is him. This is Sol.

You felt like a mess—your clothes felt wrong, your hair felt wrong, you felt wrong. Why now?! Why does he have to look like an angel when I look like this? You were so close to running out, but your feet stayed planted, refusing to move.

You drank in every detail, heart hammering like a lovesick fool. The way his shoulders leaned slightly forward as he read, his posture casual but refined. The faint scuff on the corner of his book as if he had been reading it everywhere. Even the small crease in his brow hinted at his concentration.

Your fingers itched for your sketchbook. You wanted to draw him again, every line and curve, as if your pencil could capture even a fraction of what made him so perfect. But then your gaze shifted—there were other students around, eyes occasionally darting toward him. Of course, you thought bitterly. How could they not?

The idea of pulling out your sketchbook felt risky, almost too obvious. And yet the urge to immortalize this moment, this sight of him, was clawing at your chest.

You swallowed hard, stepping back toward the corner, hoping he wouldn’t notice your frantic gaze. But even as you moved, your eyes refused to leave him. So close, yet so far... you thought, feeling every bit the love-drunk, hopeless fool you were.

Oh, how my heart shivers, lovesick and wild, Caught in your gaze, like a star-struck child. Your eyes, deep constellations, chart the skies, Pulling me closer with each soft sunrise. Your hair, dark rivers where the moonlight dips, Your name a melody upon my lips. I see you in whispers, in shadows, in dreams, A presence that wraps me in love’s silent screams.

You took a steadying breath, willing yourself to act composed, to not let your trembling hands or lovesick expression give you away. Solivan Brugmansia—your Sol—was sitting in your seat. That sacred corner, your little world, now graced by his presence. The thought made your pulse race, equal parts thrill and terror.

You couldn’t help it; your eyes roamed over him, absorbing every detail like a parched soul drinking in the rain. His hair caught the faint library light, the strands gleaming like silk. His posture was casual but poised, one hand flipping through a book while the other rested lazily on the table—oh, that hand, the one you’d heard was hurt recently. He punched a guy for you.

You bit your lip, an involuntary whimper catching in your throat at the thought of his pain.

He hadn’t noticed you at first, but your dazed stare must have drawn him in. Slowly, his gaze lifted, those striking heterochromatic eyes locking onto yours. The air felt electric, your heart doing somersaults in your chest.

“...?” His expression was unreadable, but the subtle furrow of his brows suggested mild curiosity—or was that amusement? You couldn’t tell. Either way, it made your knees weak.

“You’re, um... in my seat,” you managed, the words stumbling over each other like a desperate escape. “Can I have it back, Mr. Solivan Brugmansia...? Also, I, uh, heard about your hand. Are you okay? I hope you’re not overdoing it. And, uh, your partner—”

You froze mid-ramble as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He looked surprised for a brief second—had you actually caught him off guard? But just as quickly, his expression smoothed into that same cold, enigmatic mask. It was like looking at a wall of ice with flames just barely flickering underneath.

“You... know my name?” he asked, his voice a soft drawl, laced with something you couldn’t quite place. Control, maybe? Suspicion? Whatever it was, it sent a shiver down your spine.

You exhaled, trying to suppress the ridiculous giddiness that threatened to bubble over. Stay cool, stay cool, you reminded yourself, even as your heartbeat rivaled a drumline.

“I know your name because Hyugo told me. He said you needed a partner in art class,” you began, keeping your tone casual, though you were certain your cheeks were giving you away. “And one time, when I went to the nurse, she mentioned feeling bad about a student named Solivan who’d been injured. That’s you, isn’t it?”

His eyes widened for the briefest moment, and then he averted them, his fingers tightening slightly on the edge of his book. Was that... a blush? You almost squealed internally, but you swallowed it down like a pro. He didn’t respond, clearly not used to being read so easily.

You leaned in slightly, your voice dropping to something soft and steady. “I was worried when she said that,” you admitted. “But hey, a student is a student. Don’t overthink it. Now... can I please have my seat back?”

For a second, you thought he might actually listen. His eyes flicked to yours, a rare vulnerability peeking through before it was swallowed up by his usual mask. But instead of moving, he arched an eyebrow, glanced under the desk, and then back at you.

“I don’t see your name on it,” he said flatly, his expression neutral as he turned back to his book like you weren’t standing there, brimming with barely-contained exasperation.

You blinked. Oh, hell no.

Your jaw clenched, and a vein in your forehead might’ve popped. What was this guy’s deal?! Soulmate or not, your seat was sacred. You puffed your cheeks in frustration, unintentionally looking like the most adorably indignant person in the room. Not that Sol noticed—he was already back to reading.

Unbelievable, you thought, your inner monologue screaming .

"So cute..." It was silent but you heard it/\.

Your whole system short-circuited. Did you just hear that? Did he really say that? If it were possible to combust on the spot, you'd already be a pile of ashes.

HE CALLED YOU CUTE?!!?

Your brain spiraled into chaos. Your inner monologue devolved into nothing but incomprehensible shrieks: "IDIOEYDOWEOHCOWEODHEHUFEWFE8FR80EG8YE!!!!" Words were officially out of service, leaving you stranded in a whirlpool of overwhelming emotions.

He was blushing too, barely visible but undeniably there. His cheeks held a faint dusting of pink, and his lips curled into a barely-there smile—just enough to devastate your heart completely. How could someone be so effortlessly adorable and infuriating at the same time? Someone save you from this man, please!

But wait—did he notice your cheeks puffing up in anger? Was that why he smiled? No, no, no. If being an angry little cutie made him smile, then you’d be doomed to accidentally fuel his amusement for eternity. Yet the thought of making him smile set off a whole new wave of screaming in your head. Wahhh, he's so cute! Why does he have to be like this?

You couldn’t decide if you were furious or lovesick. One thing was certain—you were absolutely doomed.

Sol tilted his head, a sly smirk playing at his lips. "Tell you what," he drawled, looking entirely too smug for his own good, "you get me a cup of coffee, and I'll give you your seat back."

You froze. Was he serious? Coffee? For a seat? You locked eyes with him, giving him your best unimpressed glare. So what?!?! You don’t just barter seating arrangements with caffeine!

But before you could even voice your protest, your brain betrayed you.

He’ll drink it... That means he’ll touch the cup... Oh no, oh no, OH NO.

Your inner monologue kicked into overdrive, spiraling faster than you could keep up. "AN EMPTY CUP HE TOUCHES WILL BE MY SHRINE!!! I’LL FRAME IT. PUT IT IN A GLASS CASE. AHHHH!!!" You were practically vibrating with joy.

And then it hit you. Wait. Wait. I know his favorite drink. Latte. You knew it because you may or may not have totally-not-suspiciously stalked him during lunch breaks, one time even spying on him while he hung out on the rooftop. It’s fine. It’s research. You’re not weird at all.

Your face lit up with an almost chipmunk-like grin, your mood swinging like a pendulum.

It’s okay. You’re buying him his favorite coffee. Totally normal. Not because you’re secretly losing your mind over his cute smirk or planning to preserve the cup for eternity or anything. Yep. Totally normal.

Sol's silence was maddening, and you were done with his smug attitude. Crossing your arms, you let out a huff, glaring down at him as he coolly flipped another page in his book, pretending you weren’t there.

"Do I look like a servant to you!? Just move already!" you snapped, trying to keep your frustration in check. He barely glanced at you, letting out a tired sigh before returning to his novel.

Oh, no. That was not the reaction you wanted. You wanted him to look at you—to really see you.

Fine. Two could play this game.

Without a second thought, you stomped around to his side, his gaze flickering up just slightly to follow your movements. He was clearly unimpressed. That was fine; you had something planned. Gripping the back of the chair he was sitting on, you gave it a firm pull, causing him to wobble precariously.

“Whoa, what the hell—” His voice cut off as you smirked, satisfied with his startled reaction.

Before he could reprimand you for your actions, you cut him off, effectively shocking him into silence. By settling yourself on top of his lap.

He froze instantly, his book forgotten, his breath catching in his throat. He swore to whatever god looking down on him right now to take him. His ears were burning red, his entire body tensed under you, and yet… he didn’t move to push you off.

You, on the other hand, acted as if nothing was amiss, casually pulling your bag onto the desk as if this was just another day. But inside, your thoughts were spiraling out of control. Your love-struck gaze lingered on him as you rested comfortably, your heart pounding in time with the storm of emotions threatening to spill out.

What are you, Solivan...? you wanted to ask, your fingers itching to reach out and touch him. Why does everything feel so good when you’re near me? Is this how you feel when I’m around? Why are you making me feel like this?

You bit back a grin, feigning indifference even as your cheeks warmed. Sitting on him like this… felt normal, almost natural. You weren’t even processing the fact that you were quite literally perched on the lap of the boy you’d been stalking—er, admiring—for weeks now.

Sol, on the other hand, looked like he was about to combust. His hands hovered awkwardly at his sides, unsure where to go. His mind raced with a mix of flustered panic and something darker—something possessive. His beloved was teasing him, and every ounce of self-control he had was being tested.

For now, he stayed silent, his face flushed and his heart hammering so loudly that he was sure you could hear it. But the way your smug expression softened with the barest hint of affection made his resolve waver.

You had no idea what you were doing to him.

Sol’s heartbeat quickened, a low curse escaping his lips as he tried—and failed—to compose himself. Meanwhile, you continued your work as if nothing had happened, utterly unfazed by the situation. Or at least, that’s what you wanted him to believe.

Oh, sweet, naive you—you couldn’t help yourself. With a small tilt of your head, you gave him a quick glance, the corners of your lips curving into a subtle, teasing smile.

It was driving him insane.

Inside, though, you were a chaotic mess. YOUR ASS IS ON HIS LAP?! HOLY SHET! You could barely hold back the urge to laugh or scream—or maybe both. What’s worse, you noticed out of the corner of your eye that a few students were starting to notice. Some rolled their eyes at the scene, while others moved away entirely. Sol must look like a total pervert with his flushed face and the way he seemed frozen in place.

His cheeks burned an even deeper red. The sheer embarrassment almost had him wishing for the ground to swallow him whole. But despite it all, his gaze lingered on you, his chest tightening at how adorably unbothered you looked, simply focusing on your work. He couldn’t see the lovestruck expression on your face, though—thank god. You were practically drooling as you scribbled away, overwhelmed by the proximity and the faint scent of his cologne.

Sol inhaled sharply, forcing himself to calm down. It was no use fighting it. It’s my lucky day, he thought with a bitter sweetness. My pumpkin— No, no, that sounded weird. My beloved—better—is sitting on me. This is fine.

Gathering what was left of his composure, he hesitated before placing his arm next to yours on the desk, trying to act like this was completely normal. He stared down at the pages of his book, though none of the words made sense anymore. You had completely fried his brain.

You, meanwhile, decided to make yourself more comfortable. A subtle shift in your seat elicited a low groan from him, one that sent a shiver up your spine. It was clear you were doing this on purpose, and the realization made his jaw clench. You bit your lip to suppress a grin, your thoughts wandering to the way his lips looked. Soft, kissable, and so, so tempting.

Your heart thudded at the thought.

A minute passed, the tension slowly dissipating, but your heart was still racing. You could almost taste the calm, but it wasn't the peaceful kind. Not when Sol was so close.

He muttered something under his breath, and you perked up, curious. “Seldom we find,” he quoted. You tilted your head, watching him closely. Was he really interested? His voice sounded serious, focused.

You gave him space to read the rest of the stanza, allowing the silence to linger, but inside, you were buzzing.

"Half an idea in the Profoundest sonnet. Through all the flimsy things we see at once..."

You couldn’t help but lean in a little closer, your eyes flicking to him as he was so absorbed in his book. Could you feed him this poem, like feeding him words? No. You were supposed to focus, act normal. But it didn’t matter because he was so... charming. And it wasn’t just the poem—it was him. The way his voice softened when he read, the intensity in his eyes. God, you wanted to be the one to impress him.

His eyes didn’t stray from the page as he continued. “As easily as through as Naples bonnet—An Enigma by Edgar Allan Poe, huh? Not a bad choice."

A small smile tugged at your lips. Does he like poems too, or is it just him?

You could practically feel his presence wrapping around you, the air thickening as you tried to focus on the text. But the more you looked at him, the more the words blurred. You felt drawn to him, closer and closer...

"Do you know this poem has a puzzle?" he asked suddenly, pulling you from your thoughts.

"What...?" You blinked, unsure at first.

He smiled—God, that smile—and pointed at the first line, then the second. "Yes, a puzzle. This is one of the few works of his that I find quite charming..."

Charming? He's the one who's charming, you thought as you looked at him. You could barely keep your thoughts in check, wanting to record everything about him. This was... this was it. He was it.

You stared at the poem again, pretending to think. The truth was, you were just trying to keep yourself from throwing yourself into him completely. You needed a reason to stay calm. But his finger was still so close, his breath just slightly grazing your ear as he leaned in to guide you.

“Is it Sarah Anna Lewis?” you whispered, not wanting to say the wrong answer.

The shock on his face was enough to send a thrill down your spine, but he recovered quickly, sighing in defeat. “You got it right,” he whispered back, the words almost sinking into your skin.

Your heart fluttered wildly, as if you'd just won a game... his game.

You were... so happy. You couldn't hold back the soft giggle that bubbled up, your pride shining through. Your smile grew, unable to hide how pleased you were.

"I deserve another pat!" you exclaimed, pride spilling from you. "I got it right, yeah?"

Sol chuckled, but it was a hesitant sound—something almost shy. His hand brushed against your head again, giving you another gentle pat. And fuck, you couldn't help but close your eyes and savor the moment. You were addicted to the way he touched you. You’d never get enough.

"Just happy to see someone likes his poems, or at least deciphers them," he murmured.

I like you, you wanted to say. I like you so much...

But you couldn’t. Instead, your body betrayed you. As you leaned forward in excitement, you accidentally pressed your front against his chest, causing him to freeze.

Shit.

Before you could even process it, his hand shot out to grab your waist, holding you in place. Your heart skipped a beat as the room felt too small, as if everything around you was fading except for the pressure of your bodies being too close. You didn’t even care that it looked like two lovers in a moment.

Two lovers... just like in the novels.

You looked up, ready to joke about the situation, but his relaxed posture had vanished. Sol was tense, his face flushed a shade of red you had never seen before. He was literally trembling now, his eyes wide as dinner plates. His breath quickened, and before you knew it, he was leaning forward and gently—gently—placing you back down on the table.

"I’m sorry! I forgot I was sitting on you!" You scrambled to get off him, your hands shaky from the sudden shift in the situation.

But the truth was—you loved it.

You giggled, a deep, warm feeling spreading in your chest as you realized how easy it was to fluster him. But as soon as your feet hit the ground, you saw it—Sol was already up, clutching his book like it was his lifeline.

Without a word, he hurried to the exit, his pace like that of a speed walker, trying to escape from what you both just created.

And you, standing there with a blush on your face and your heart still racing, knew one thing for sure:

You trudged down the hall, your footsteps slow and reluctant. Sol was just ahead, but there was a slight distraction—Crowe. Damn it, you thought. You didn’t need this right now. Sol was slipping away, and you needed to be with him.

But then, you saw Brittney—her uniform a disaster. It was a mess of ketchup, mustard, and oil, a perfect blend of clumsy chaos. Jess was trying to help, but nothing seemed to work. What did happen? You were so relieved you hadn’t been involved in that mess. The last thing you wanted was to be caught up in that.

"Y/n! I was about to check up on you, how are you feeling?" Crowe’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you tried to keep your frustration in check.

"Good, better..." you muttered, though your mind was still on Sol. You couldn’t care less about the unfolding drama; it sounded ridiculous, but you had to admit—it was probably fun. Geo wasn’t around, thank God.

Then there was Brittney’s confused face, looking at you as you handed her the key to your locker.

“I have some fresh button-down shirts. You can wear one of them—or just keep it. I didn’t even get them properly, but I got both male and female sizes... You can have the female one. Just give the key to Crowe. I’m heading somewhere.”

She looked at you quizzically, but you didn’t have the patience. “Move, Ichabod...” You practically hissed the words, a tone of warning in your voice. You didn’t have time to explain further.

Crowe seemed taken aback, his expression faltering. “Where...?”

You didn’t answer directly. You just felt this desperate need to be elsewhere, away from everything, toward Sol.

And then you were gone.

Crowe stood there, confused, staring after you as you ran. “What am I doing wrong...?” he murmured to himself, probably wondering why you were so distant.

You didn’t care about that, though. Sol was what mattered.

And there he was, rushing toward the restroom. Your heart skipped a beat—Oh no. You couldn’t follow him there. That restroom? It was infamous. You'd heard the rumors. It wasn’t the place to go if you wanted to avoid strange giggling. But the pull to be close to him was strong, almost overwhelming.

You had no choice but to head to your next class. You could still feel the electricity in the air as you walked, a tight knot in your chest. You took your usual seat and pulled out your journal, your fingers grazing the pages. But then—Stop. You couldn’t focus. You couldn’t draw. You wanted to, but everything felt... alive in a different way.

You stepped into the classroom once again, your eyes scanning the room. There, at the back, was the tuft of black hair with striking green highlights—Solivan Brugmansia. It was him. But... was he always there? How had you missed him before? You’d never noticed his presence in the past. Was it always this obvious? Had you really been so blind to his existence?

The realization hit you like a wave. You couldn't believe you'd overlooked him all this time. Solivan... Sol... He was always there, sitting at the back, focused on his own world. You had never seen him, and yet now, it felt like you were noticing everything about him. How had you been so unaware?

Your heart raced. Thank gods you were here now. You could hardly keep your eyes off him. You moved to the seat directly in front of him, pulling the chair close and sitting down. Your gaze was fixed on him. There was a grace to the way he drew, a certain elegance in the movement of his hand. His pencil glided across the page effortlessly, each stroke precise, as if it was second nature. You couldn’t help but lean closer, your curiosity getting the better of you.

You had to know—what was he drawing? You craned your neck just enough to catch a glimpse of the paper.

you leaned over to get a closer look at his drawing, you suddenly caught Sol’s attention. His pencil froze mid-motion, and his wide, startled eyes snapped up to meet yours. His face turned an instant shade of red, and before you could even react, he quickly slammed the book shut with a soft thud. He glanced away, clearly flustered, his cheeks burning from the unexpected attention.

You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, but you quickly tried to smooth over the awkwardness. “I’m sorry, it’s me from the library... I hope we can get along,” you said, your voice softer than usual, almost a little nervous. The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and you immediately regretted not sounding more casual about it.

He kept his gaze down, still blushing furiously, and didn’t say anything for a moment. He just turned away slightly, his fingers gripping his book tighter as if trying to hide behind it. You could almost feel the heat radiating from his face.

Not wanting to make it more awkward, you hurried back to your seat, but you could feel his eyes following you. As you settled in, you risked a glance at him, only to find that he was already staring at you. Both of you yelped in surprise, quickly turning your heads in the opposite direction, your faces burning in sync. The air between you was thick with unspoken tension, neither of you daring to meet the other’s gaze for more than a split second. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach and the heat of embarrassment prickling your skin.

This... was going to be interesting.

This is rushed im sorrry! Its a small fic so! dw ill update it!

#the kid at the back vn #tkatb #tkatb sol #tkatb x reader #visual novel #sol x reader #solivan brugmansia #solvian x reader #the kid at the back sol #the kid at the back x reader #tkatb crowe #tkatb vn #solivan x reader #solivan

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celestie0 · 14 hours ago

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hi my friends! hope you're all doing well. just wanted to come on here and share a little updates w you guys (if you're still here lol)

i guess it's been like a month n a half since i formally went on hiatus, and it's been nice! i got kinda sick for a little bit lmfaooo which was tough to manage w school, but i'm better now

although i took time away from my blog, i still delved in writing here n there. i haven't written anything for kickoff since tbh i'm in such a slump w it. but i still have big plans for stuff that happens after ch13, so hopefully i can just push through this next chapter and get to a better place. thanks so much to anyone that is still interested in the story, it means a lot to me. i know i'm so slow w updates and the story has been going on for almost a year now, but the continued support is so sweet! even though i didn't work on writing it these past one n a half months, i still really love it and plan to finish it.

i'm not sure if many people remember that i had this sort of "apocalypse" gojo x reader au about an asteroid being set to hit the earth in three days, and reader n gojo are ex lovers n the impending end of the world makes them break no-contact...yeah i finished writing the first chapter for it and i really love it so far! it's like set in new york which is really fun haha i love stories where new york is kind of its own "character" if that makes sense...it will definitely be a limited series w only 4 chapters or so, but i kinda wanna finish all 4 chapters before i start posting it bc i don't want it to be a drawn out series in terms of posting since i think it'd be best enjoyed in frequent succession if that makes sense

as for ihm, i think i wrote the most for ihm during my hiatus. i finished three chapters for it, but they are shorter chapters (around 3-4k words). i kinda realized one of my biggest reasons for burnout w my fics were the reaaaaallly long chapters...like didn't i have a 22k chapter for kickoff or sumn lol. idk i can't remember. but anyways, yeah the mindset behind the longer chapters was bc i liked each chapter to kinda have its own conflict, build up, tension then resolution in a sense. but it was exhausting to write that way tbh lol. so i think moving forward, for ihm, i will have shorter chapters. i just don't wanna think to much about things anymore, and write from my heart, bc i have a lot of things planned for ihm, and among the criticism i've received for my writing choices vs my own vision for the story, i've realized during my hiatus that the only way i can finish ihm, or any of my storeis for that matter, is if i just.........stop giving a fuck about it. lol idk if that sounds strange to say, but like, i don't want to over-edit anything. i don't want to think too much about redundancy. i don't want to flower things up or cut stuff out. i'm at the point where imma just write a first draft, check for grammarly errors, and then post it. i guess the reason i'm sharing this is because idk if this means that people may enjoy my writing less since i will admittedly be spending much less time on it than i did before, but tbh i realized i find the most joy while i'm writing, and not while i'm editing. so i want to spend as little time on the latter as possible, and if that changes the quality of my work, then so be it.

anyways, hmm as for hiatus. i guess i'm off hiatus now? i really enjoyed being off of tumblr tbh this app has a lot of questionable content at times (esp in jjk community) and it also did wonders for my studying bc i wasn't spending time doomscrolling or shit posting anymore lmfaooo. but as for writing in particular, i think i will start to post ihm again exclusively. i can't say anything about kickoff or my other projects, but i feel comfortable to start posting ihm again.

sorry, i know that i have kept my replies and ask box off for a long time. but i will open them again once i start posting chapters because i really miss interacting with you guys.

anywho, these are my updates lol i'm like not sure how many of my readers are still here or which ones have moved on but that's ok, i'm grateful to anyone n everyone. hope to see you all soon again!

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hannieoftheyear · 2 days ago

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Warning Signal (jww) TEASER

Two targets you need to figure out, alongside the one person you most despise, and zero mistakes allowed.

As the lives of your targets get more and more intertwined, and your plan gets more complicated, memories of the past and feelings you thought you could put aside threaten to ruin the mission.

pairing: criminal!wonwoo x criminal!reader

w.c: 915 (for the teaser), full work will be over 20k

release date: tbd

genre: exes to partners in crime to lovers, violence, angst, smut (not in the teaser)

content warnings (for the full work): vague descriptions of what their "job" actually is, criminal acts, stalking, spying, invasion of privacy, use of fake names, fake identities, stealing (both reader and wonwoo do all of the above), mentions of guns, fight scenes, blood, murder, death (not the main characters) | the story will contain flashbacks written in cursive (such as this teaser)

note: this is very different from what i've been posting so far, but i had a dream about a similar story and couldn't get it out of my mind.

on that note, i'm not sure when i'll be able to finish this bc it's taking a lot of time to make sure everything makes sense and for the relationship to be fully fleshed out. it might be done by january (that sounds so weird to say omg)

if anyone wants to be on the taglist, comment this post!

“The bit is over Wonwoo, go home.”

“Let’s just work together, one last time.” His voice reaches closer and closer from behind you until you stop walking and force yourself to face him.

“Not only do I not need your help, I especially don’t want it.”

“Look, I’m not asking you to forgive me, just–” He appears to have regretted what he was about to say, and you don’t wait for him to gather his thoughts.

“Just what? Understand it? We’re way past that don’t you think?”

“We’re good together,” your brain glitches with astonishment before he corrects himself, “We always worked better when we did these jobs together, you know that.”

“You have some serious nerve, after last time, the least I should do it rat you out right this second.”

“You wouldn’t do that, it’s not your style.”

“To fuck over my partners? No, that’s yours.”

He's trying to charm his way into your life again, like the past few months could disappear at the flash of a smile, and you'll be damned if you let him.

“Let’s just see it as a mere trade of information, nothing more.” Neither his voice nor his expression suggests that he’s trying to deceive you, and you hate that you're even considering his offer.

“And I wouldn’t have to see your face ever again after?”

“That would be your loss, but sure. One last job and we’d be done.”

“Are you being serious?”

It’s hard to trust him. No matter how much he insists it’s his only goal. But it’s true that whatever knowledge he collected on that dude would save you a lot of time and resources, and you have to do this job well to prove yourself to your boss.

“Dead serious. I promise.”

A year before…

The waitress, with purple bags under her eyes and bleach blonde hair tied up in a bun on the edge of falling undone, sighed on the way to tell the same client, for the fourth time in two hours, that it was prohibited to smoke inside the establishment. You saw that man doing countless other illegal things while sitting on that same dark booth the entire night, but the bar drew the line at smoking indoors.

He huffed at her but ultimately put the cigarette out against the wood table. There were fewer and fewer people the more the time passed, and soon enough, it was going to be too suspicious for you to still be there. You couldn’t be the only customer left in the bar when he left, but the person he was still waiting for was the key to all this, and you couldn’t leave without that information.

An ‘80s country song started playing on the radio, and the man started tapping his fingers against the table, following the rhythm of the classic. It was almost serene, the way he relaxed at the sound of the familiar tune, but the night started to feel more and more like a waste of time. Whatever the deal was with the person who wasn’t showing up, it was clearly not happening.

“Can I buy you a drink?” A familiar figure sat in front of you at the secluded booth you kidnapped for the whole night. But the smile that appeared on your face at him quickly dissipated.

“You shouldn’t be here. It’s too empty.” Besides the staff, you and the old man, there were only three people inside the dusty bar at that time, all alone, too drunk and on the brink of leaving. It was almost impossible not to stand out in that crowd.

“Don’t worry, I called in a few favors.” Just as Wonwoo finished his sentence, a group of at least ten men, talking loudly and in the mood to celebrate something, walked into the tiny bar, disrupting the serenity but providing you with much needed cover.

“You’re so... resourceful.” Your words mixed with a giggle as the atmosphere changed from calm and musty to a playful bachelor-esque party inside the bar. “How did you know I was here?”

“I always know where you are, baby.” A chill climbed up your spine at his teasing smile. “And also, I was waiting for a guy to show up here. He’s supposed to be meeting someone.”

The loud laugh that escaped you almost beat the drunk shouting of the bachelors in volume. It was easy to connect the dots, and it also wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.

“You know something I don’t?” Wonwoo’s eyes didn’t stray away from the smile on your lips.

You just giggled as your eyes darted towards the sketchy old man, who was back to smoking, seeing that the staff’s attention was focused on the new customers. You could feel Wonwoo’s gaze stay on you for a second before following yours, and the realization hit him quickly, the years of working together serving their purpose.

“Yours?” The amusement in his voice made you nod eagerly, sipping on the mocktail that had been sitting untouched on the table for over an hour. “It’s been a while.”

This job, the thing that you do for a living, got lonely every now and then. Doing everything on your own, not being able to share it with the people closest to you, can take a toll on anyone, no matter how detached they're able to get. So, when you got a chance to work with the one you love, you were for sure gonna take it.

“I know, it’s gonna be fun.”

thank you for reading! i love this story and i cant wait to finish it so you all can finally read it!

remember! if you want to join the taglist, comment on this post ♡

#wonwoo au #seventeen au #svt au #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo imagines

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leviathanxprincess · 15 hours ago

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Introducing the Homicipher Characters to Your Plushies - Pt. 2

The Homicipher Characters come to you in hopes for whatever insanity they plan to drag you into, you instead have a different plan! Showing them your plushies!

Notes: Gender Neutral Reader ! This part includes Mr. Hugeface, Mr. Stitch, Mr. Masque, and Mr. Wheelchair !

Part one here !

Mr. Hugeface

His little human is so cute!!! Look at these small little creatures that they adore!!!!

Honestly they remind him of you!! Because that's what he sees when he looks at you.

I think he already adores plushies to begin with, not that there's an extreme amount in his world but we do know that they're there! We have seen teddy bears!

So once he knows that you not only love them, you have an entire collection, he's so endeared!!

He wants to meet all of them and know their names.

He gives you head pats with his finger because you're just such an adorable little human!

He looks at you and your plushies with such love. Not sure he's ever been more content in his life than this moment.

Mr. Stitch

Such a cute human! He 1000% had other plans to take you on some of incredibly dangerous adventure, but you started talking about your plushies and how could he stop you?

It's fine, he can have his fun later. For now, he'll sit down and enjoy listening to you show off your tiny little creatures.

Feels a small sense of comradery with them? Like look, they all have stitches too!!!

He hopes because of that fact that when you look at them now you think of him.

Admittedly he will get bored eventually, so it might be something you have to do in small amounts if you have that many plushies.

But it's fine!!! As long as he doesn't have to sit still for too long he'll listen each time.

Doesn't really retain most of the information you tell him but it's fine, he's too busy squishing your face anyway for you to quiz him.

Mr. Masque

He's excited to get acquainted with all your plushies!!!

Will learn the names and everything just for you! And will acknowledge how important they are to you.

Can't hold himself back from giving you a bunch of kisses. He can't help but find you so adorable.

Will perform little magic tricks with them if you allow him.

Nothing insane, actually he more of less uses it for cute little things.

You're sad or hurt? One of your favorite plushies will suddenly appear on your lap.

You'll walk into a room and one of them will be holding out a bouquet of flowers or some other sort of gift for you.

His surprises with them can jumpscare you sometimes, but you always adore them nonetheless because they will be sweet gestures in some way.

Mr. Wheelchair

He doesn't really come off as the type to ever really care about any sort of plush toy. At least not at the point he is now.

But it does make you happy, so he will listen.

And I think by the time you finish talking, he's gonna see the appeal.

He doesn't understand how such an object can bring such comfort, but he'll acknowledge that fact for you.

He notices how you hold them when you're upset or suffering in some way.

Eventually he wants to try hold them as well when he's having a hard time.

Surprisingly, he finds a lot of comfort in them too afterward.

#homicipher x reader #homicipher #mr stitch #mr masque #mr wheelchair #mr hugeface #mr hugeface x reader #mr stitch x reader #mr masque x reader #mr wheelchair x reader

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boobi-boy · 9 hours ago

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SPOILERS FOR MOUTHWASHING TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR: R*pe/SA, S***cide, plus various dark themes present in Mouthwashing.

I made my dad play Mouthwashing and he made a really good point.

He said, "If you think about it, Anya is really the protagonist"

Which I think makes so much sense.

On a surface level, Jimmy is the 'antagonist' in the sense that he's the story's primary 'villain' or negative driving force, by crashing the ship, raping Anya, being the reason for her suicide, being the reason Daisuke died (by using the only disinfectant on the ship to spike Swansea and then manipulating him into going into the broken vent), murdering Swansea and then offing himself with no way of knowing if he's actually 'saved' Curly. Since the person he actively hurt the most is Anya, she is then the protagonist.

On a deeper level, almost every character is defined by their relation to Anya and how they treat her or view her as a person.

Jimmy, for example is defined, initially, as a villainous character when Anya reveals what he has done to her. The player also slowly becomes aware - as they go back and forth between playing as Jimmy and Curly - that Anya is not the timid and vulnerable character she is presented as in the early game, discovering that that is just how Jimmy viewed her because he was her abuser. Anya is the character that reveals who Jimmy is to the player on a genuinely visceral level and his relationship with her is among the most crucial parts of the game.

The fact that Curly does not provide Jimmy with any consequences for his assault on Anya reveals a great deal about Curly to the player, displaying him openly as an arbiter and an enabler for the abuse by being a knowing and wilful bystander. This alone is the predominant reason that the quality and content of his character is called into question. Then, because his status as a coward who often stands by and lets Jimmy act however the fuck he likes is already established by his response to the situation with Anya, the player is able to fully believe it when Curly just lets an openly suicidal and homicidal Jimmy go into that cockpit and crash the ship.

Swansea's hate for Jimmy because of what he did to Anya is also intensely important because he probably would not have killed Daisuke under different circumstances. If he had any more respect for Jimmy than he did, he may have given Jimmy a real chance to try and save Daisuke.

Although Daisuke and Anya don't really have an active relationship, plot-wise Jimmy would never have sent Daisuke into the vent if he had never assaulted Anya, as she would not have been suicidal in the first place and the situation would have never existed.

The unborn child that Anya was carrying is also so present during the psychosis that Jimmy experiences in the latter act of the game. Despite her death, the consequences of Jimmy's actions unto her still haunt him and define not only who he is, but how he sees himself.

Anya's relationships with the other characters and her actions within the plotline of the game make Mouthwashing what it is. Everything that happens is somewhat centred around her. Therefore, the true protagonist of the game is Anya.

#mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #captain curly #wrong organ

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 days ago

Note

Given we have finally gotten news regarding the anime what do you think about it being an adaptation of the manga?

I have some mixed opinions since we'll be seeing the same story for the 4th time at this point (game/manga/novel/anime) but there does appear to be some differences with each especially with each unique Yuu. I do think the OBs and fight choreography is best animated over a slice of life show.

I'm not expecting any major changes from the manga if any at all but I'm happy to see it animated at all. I do hope it is successful so that the other books get animated. I feel like we are in a purgatory of early TWST with how often we go back to the earlier books in different mediums.

[Referencing this news!]

Gonna be honest with you, I’m kinda numb to getting yet another adaptation of the main story (a story that, mind you, we've already heard ad nauseum). At this point, it really does feel like a never-ending purgatory or time loop where we are forced to relive Heartslabyul over and over and over 😅 Of course, I'm still looking forward to seeing the anime and watching some of the more complicated scenes play out (fights, flashback sequences, playing magift/spelldrive, etc.). However, I think I would have preferred something new...? For example, vignettes, the event stories, etc.

The anime being an adaptation of the manga is... fine? But that means the anime may also have the same issues that I have with the manga. Those would be:

We will never really be able to fully bond with or know Yuu on a deeper level since Yuu is constantly changing between books/seasons. We won't get to see how the Yuu of Heartslabyul interacts with characters in later books, we won't get to see how the Yuu of Octavinelle handled the Heartslabyul and Savanaclaw conflicts, etc. We won't see any of them grow or change as a result of interacting with the NRC cast. This sucks particularly because if you really love a particular Yuu, you know they won’t be sticking around.

Despite the Yuus being designed as foils for the OB boys of each respective arc, no special meaningful interactions come out of it. The reader/viewer is just left to draw the parallels but there is never a moment where Yuu and the OB boy reconcile about their similarities/differences, which would actually justify the frequent changing of the POV character.

Barely any alterations are made from the game's story, since the manga isn't allowed to deviate in significant ways. No matter how different the Yuu is, they cannot ever make a decision or even have dialogue that would actually change the story in interesting ways.

General time constraints (manga arcs are 20 chapters, seasons have a limited number of episodes).

Limited showing/screen time of some characters. Because the adaptation will be of the main story, some characters that make very bad first impressions (hi, book 2 Leona… hi, Sebek without the vignettes…) will maintain those bad first impressions and won’t have a chance to redeem themselves simply because the bonus content (vignettes, event stories, etc.) aren’t adapted. Other characters won’t get as much focus simply because they aren’t the OB boys. The former would mainly be a concern for anime/manga-only fans.

Most of my disappointment comes not from reliving the same story, but that we are reliving the same story with minimal changes. I would enjoy adaptations more if they actually played around with the source material and explored new avenues! It feels like a missed opportunity, you know??

As I said earlier in this post, this is NOT meant to be overly negative; this is healthy skepticism. I'd describe myself as still excited, but not as excited as I would be if the anime were about something else set in the Twst world. Hope that makes sense 🙏

I would also caution readers to take my concerns with a grain of salt; for all we know, maybe the anime will add new scenes or fix some of the issues I pointed out. We should wait until the anime is out to judge its content and quality for ourselves.

On a positive note though 🤡 M-Maybe we will see. Shirtless L*ona animated… because… y’know… Episode of Savanaclaw technically canonized it… HAHAHAh JK… unless…? 🥺 👉👈

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst manga #twisted wonderland manga #Leona Kingscholar #Sebek Zigvolt #NOT L*ONA ROT #notes from the writing raven #question #twst anime #twisted wonderland anime #Yuu

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604to647 · 1 day ago

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The Might of the Realm

8.9K / Din Djarin x Princess!Reader

Summary: Din Djarin, General to your father’s army, finds himself in the gladiator arena of a foreign planet fighting for the success of your diplomatic mission.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Established secret relationship (they are stupid in love), Mando'a nicknames (mesh'la, cyar'ika, cyare), the helmet comes off but reader is blindfolded, bath sex, fingering, unprotected PiV (Star Wars is made up and in space, so we pretend it's fine). A wee bit of angst if you squint.

A/N: Written for @beefrobeefcal's The Glandolorian challenge! This is the same AU that I imagined for my Kiss It Better drabble, with the same Princess!reader: set post Season 3, Carson Teva has dispatched Din to a New Republic stronghold planet to train and strengthen their armies; he becomes their General and falls in love with the realm's princess. I imagine this story to take place before Kiss It Better, when they are still sneaking around 🥰.

Many moons before another General (🤭) came on the scene, I outlined a long story for this AU that I'm not sure I'll ever write, so kindly forgive my self indulgent word count - I really took advantage of this challenge for a chance to write these two 🥰 Struggled a bit with the Dieter Bravo reference, but I think I found something that works (Thank you to @morallyinept for your invaluable character dialogue database!) Also got inspired by someone's Gladiator II premier look and snuck in one (1) The Princess Bride reference 🤭 / Dividers by @saradika-graphics

“No.”

“Princess, it will be fine.”

“I said ‘no’, Din. We came to pay our respects to the new rule and to affirm that our established trade routes through Flavin 5’s space will remain intact. We did not come to be participate in some archaic gladiatorial fighting match to assert dominance.”

Even through the blankness of Din’s visor you can tell he’s amused by your hiss of a retort but is holding back his reaction. His stoic and impassive demeanor normally reserved for others, you know that if he’s being less than fully direct with you it’s for one of two reasons: 1) he doesn’t want to lie or 2) he doesn’t want to risk your ire. You suppose it’s the latter in this case, and that thought alone is reason enough for you to calm your emotional response to this predicament and reassess.

Taking a deep breath, you rest one hand on your hip and mimic a stance you’ve seen your fearsome General make many times; with your other you gesture at Din to present his argument for voluntarily sending your guard, the top lieutenants of the army he commands, into a battle arena on foreign soil.

“Mesh’la, I know your instinct is to protect your people, but you know as well as I that our troops, and especially the men who have been deemed fit to accompany you on this diplomatic mission, are more than capable of handling themselves in any combat situation.”

Din almost chuckles at the way you tilt your pretty head ready to interrupt, his feisty cyar’ika; he continues hurriedly, but with the calm confidence he knows you respond to, “You diligently studied Flavian traditions and history before embarking on this trip – you yourself taught me all I know of these people. Despite the new ruling family’s decision to resurrect this ancient custom, what is your sense of these people? Do they seem barbaric? Cruel for cruelty’s sake? This isn’t the Petranaki arena on Geonosis.”

You would roll your eyes at Din’s perfectly level-headed analysis, if you didn’t consider his strategic and tactical mind one of his most attractive qualities; Din’s shrewd ability to consider all angles of any situation is one of your army’s greatest strengths, and one that never fails to weaken you at the knees. He’s taking this situation as seriously as you need him to, and so, you consider your answer carefully - working through your thoughts out aloud, “No, they are not a cruel people – and you’re right, these gladiatorial games were never about execution or spectacle like they were on Geonosis. The ancient Flavian events were meant to bring the people, no matter class or station, together to be entertained, usually in celebration.”

“Do you think that tradition is being respected? Or do you suspect some hidden agenda?”

You remunerate on this, thinking back to the new Flavian royal family you met earlier today, “No. I believe them to be sincere. Their purpose in resurrecting this historic custom is, I think, to build a connection with their people. Participating in the gladiator match would be a show a respect for the Flavian people and a celebration of the new royal family.” You take a deep breath, “So, we should participate.”

“I agree completely, Princess.”

This time you do roll your eyes at Din, but there’s no arrogance in your expression, “Fine. But Din, just because there’s no ill intent does not mean there isn’t risk. We don’t know what to expect from such a fight – there hasn’t been one like it held in centuries. Who knows what opponents our men would face in the arena?”

“No matter who or what our troops are pitted against tomorrow, Princess, there is no doubt in my mind that they will be able to handle it.”

Nodding thoughtfully, you have to agree, Din did train them himself after all, “I believe it. Especially since they will have their fearless General there to lead them.”

“No.”

“Din, it will be fine.”

“I said ‘no’, mesh’la. I cannot leave you unprotected and without guard in the Royal Box,” huffs Din.

Stepping into Din’s space, you lay your hands on the shiny beskar that sits across his expansive chest, swearing you can feel it vibrate beneath your gentle palm from his thundering heartbeat; tipping yourself towards the great warrior before you, you feel his big, gloved hands move to your waist to steady you just as you knew they would. Giving Din your most innocuous expression, you coo, “There is no need for me to have a protective guard if we deem the Flavian royals to be of honourable intent; if it is safe enough for our soldiers to participate in the gladiatorial games, then it is safe enough for me to be alone in the Royal Box.”

Din’s smile at your cleverness and persuasive tactics is hidden beneath his helmet, but he’s yet not ready to show you he’s given in so he remains as silent and cold as the armour he wears.

You use this opportunity to loop one arm around your hulking General’s neck to bring him closer to you still, your free hand takes one of his from your waist and brings it up to his helmet in a silent request. The familiar click of Din’s helmet unlocking is the only invitation you need - using your nose to lift the brim of his helmet slightly above his strong jaw so you can find his plush lips with your own, you feel the hint of a smile against your pout before you deepen the kiss. Opening to let Din lick into your mouth, you melt against the hard metal that represents everything he is to you: extraordinary, flawless, indestructible.

And such a good kisser, letting loose a soft whimper you nearly miss Din chuckle something against your lips.

“What’s that, General?” you sigh dreamily.

“I said, Princess, I saw what you did there, and that was NOT the way,” chastising with no actual bite, Din lowers and relocks his helmet.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” flashing him that breathtaking smile of yours that always makes him forget himself, “I’m only following the logic you already agreed to. Grogu and I will be fine watching you showcase the might of our realm from the safety of our spectator seats tomorrow.”

“Grogu will be with me in the fighting area.”

“No.”

“Cyar’ika, he will be fine.”

“He’s just a baby, Din!”

“And a Mandalorian apprentice. You’ve seen what a formidable fighter he’s already grown to be.”

And so on, and so forth – the two of you, the General and his Princess, spiritedly discussing and debating matters that affect your realm. The thought crosses your mind, not for the first time, that when you ascend the throne after your father you will need a ruling partner who challenges you like this: one who makes you wiser and forces you to expand your horizons, but trusts your compassion and tender heart, and who you trust to keep you and your kingdom safe. And as you always do when this thought naturally lends itself to an image of Din by your side, tall and proud as your King consort, you push it away as far as you can. It hurts too much to imagine something that seems to materialize so clearly and happily, as if it could actually become a reality, when you know it could never be.

The crowd in the arena is deafening. Already amped from the opening entertainment acts, they’re now cheering loud, calling for the main event.

Sitting front row in the Royal Box, you scan over the floor of the arena – knowing that it’s unlikely, but still hoping for a flash of silver beskar from behind one of the gates that line the sides of the arena floor, behind which lay the holding areas for the gladiator fighters selected for today’s match. Once or twice, you think you spy the sunlight catch something shiny from beneath the stands, but before you can look more closely, someone from the Flavian royal family will engage your attention. Though your mind never strays far from Din and his, your men, you cannot forget yourself or your role - your purpose for being in this arena today: you’re here to secure the continued prosperity your kingdom and strengthen your realm’s relationship with a long-standing ally.

If you’re honest, despite the trepidation that sits heavily atop your heart, you cannot help but be affected by the electricity of your environment. The stadium thrums and pulses with the excitement of thousands of Flavian citizens who have come out in the hot sun to partake in today’s festivities – you see children of all ages waving noisemakers and colourful flags, men and women young and old already cheering for who they anticipate to be today’s victors. Based on the chatter in your tent, the news of your General fighting today has spread like wildfire through the city – very few Flavians have ever seen a Mandalorian, never mind have the privilege of seeing one fight; today was going to be a day they remember for the rest of their lives. As for your companions in the Royal Box, you’re happy to see that your and Din’s assessment had been accurate – there is no underlying bloodlust or malevolent show of power associated with these fights, everything is only in good fun; your royal cohorts are all in splendid moods, showing genuine enthusiasm akin to the original spirit of the same games put on by their ancestors.

You’re just chatting amiably with the new Flavian king about having some of the wonderful Flavian wine and fruit you’ve enjoyed in the tent sent up to your room later, when a fanfare of trumpets echoes throughout the stadium announcing the start of today’s fight. The crowd quiets to a soft buzzing as the amphitheatre’s speakers announce the entrance of your fighters; the volume rises again as the audience goes wild when the might of your realm runs in through the gladiator’s entrance. You can’t help but beam, chest bursting with pride at the impression they make on the Flavian crowd – a big, broad Mandalorian General, towering in his stance and intimidating in his majestic armour, flanked by your guard: five of the strongest, most formidable soldiers from your father’s army.

You spy Grogu before the Flavian royals do, but it’s only because you know where to look. A perch for him has been attached to the side of his father’s jet pack so he can remain secure at Din’s shoulder during combat, but have the flexibility to jump off and join the fray if needed. The instant the Flavian prince spots him, he excitedly points him out to the others – and you take great pride in informing your hosts that they, in fact, have the honour of seeing two Mandalorians today.

With only a few moments before their opponents arrive in the arena, you take a closer look at your fighting contingent – they have been outfitted with Flavian weapons (swords, blasters, electro shields), the standard issue armament of your kingdom they normally carry nowhere in sight; the only exception is of course Din, who carries the gladiatorial weapons like the others and all of his usual weaponry – you chuckle to yourself, imagining the poor Flavian weapons master who tried to strip a Mandalorian of his religion.

A loud voice announcing the incoming fighters for Flavin 5 jerks you back to the scene before you. The crowd thunders as a squadron of battle droids nearly a hundred strong marches into the arena, each carrying varying sized blasters or blaster rifles in addition to their own swords, a few wielding double ended electro staffs. You barely have time to fret over how outnumbered Din and your troops are before the king is rising in his seat and giving the ceremonial hand gesture for the fight to begin.

You hear your General shout quick, decisive commands and his trusty men move swiftly into the desired formation, electro shields lit up and expanded in one coordinated movement. They advance as a team, strong and sure, every aim of their blasters true – each man practiced at covering the comrades at their sides as the droids begin shooting back.

When your men are close enough to the front line of the remaining droids, the intimidating battle cry you hear emanating from Din’s helmet is repeated in response at tenfold the volume by his men, a signal to shift fluidly into a tiered offensive formation that you recognize from watching their training on the palace grounds at home.

The legion moves with precision and speed, the crouched soldiers providing the impenetrable shielding needed by the men who stand tall as a precision sniper team that can’t be touched; your Mandalorian the tallest, unphased by the droid fire that bounces harmlessly off his beskar armour.

The formation is far more effective than the static positions of the droids and in almost no time at all, your fighters have driven the remaining thirty or so droids back towards the entrance gate. Answering another roared order, your contingent springs apart with an unrivalled ferocity to attack the remaining droids via direct combat.

Din cuts down mechanical fighter after mechanical fighter, mowing through the defensive lines of the Flavian droids that have none of his agility and lighting quick reflexes, bolstered by his trusted troops at his back who move with the confidence of men who have been trained by the best, used to fighting with the best.

Grogu has left his father, jumping from his perch onto and over droids with lightening speed - they shoot at him with their blasters only to miss their fast-moving green target every time and take each other out instead.

You watch their every move with bated breath – every bolt that connects with your realm’s armour quickens your breath, the clashing sounds of weapon on weapon too loud in your ears, and each hit or wound sustained by one of your men jolts a phantom pain through your own body.

When the last droid soldier falls, your men, your man, stand victorious at the epicenter of the arena; bloodied, exhausted to the point that the heaving of their chest plates can be seen from the Royal Box… but all standing.

You can hardly believe it - your heart exploding with pride, tears nearly springing from your eyes in relief. Looking to your hosts, you half expect them to congratulate you and acknowledge the victory of your fighters, but instead, you see them still engaged with the scene before them, eyes trained on the arena floor.

They smile with genuine excitement and anticipation, and your eyes snap back to Din and your soldiers at the sound of the brassy, melodic fanfare now being played throughout the stadium. The crowd rises to its feet with an ear-splitting roar as the orchestral horns continue to crescendo, announcing the coming of something.

You glance at the Flavian prince, his face alight with boyish joy – he’s excited in an almost childish way and when he sees you looking at him, he beams and points to one of the gates that’s now opening, voice elated, “Cliff beasts!”

Cliff beasts?!? You stand from your seat and rush to the edge of the balcony, gripping the railing and leaning as far as you can so you can see what new challenger is about to enter the arena. You gasp when you see it – a woolly beast larger than Din and his men combined, trotting out into the arena on four stubby but powerful legs. A magnificent horn, the length of which must span at least half of the creature’s massive body protrudes from its snout, thick and battle ready.

A mudhorn?? Of all the beasts to have entered the arena, what where the chances it would be the beast of Din’s clan signet? For a moment, you’re alarmed that maybe there have been unseen machinations at play and you’ve been blind to it all – that you’ve somehow failed in your diplomatic duties, failing your kingdom, your men, Din.

You study the Flavian prince who’s now proclaiming to his father, the king, “These cliff beasts are so large!” The two of them are enthusiastically waving and gesturing to the other attendees in the Royal Box, their chatter is of wonderment and genuine amazement at the sight of this creature that they’ve never before beheld on their planet - you conclude, with relief, that it has to be a coincidence. Wait, what did he mean – these?

Peering down into the arena again you see a second, smaller mudhorn ambling behind the first. A parent and its child! Your heart tightens, imagining how scared the two creatures have to be and how fiercely the adult will fight in order to protect its young. You catch Din’s visor pointed up at you from the arena floor and you know that he understands the distressed expression of your face perfectly.

Immediately, your General gathers his men and lays out his strategy – unknowable to the crowds of the arena, but you can read Din clear as day: he won’t cause harm to another living creature if he doesn’t have to.

Din and his soldiers slowly fan out, purposefully ignoring the young calf while surrounding the adult mudhorn. As expected, the mudhorn charges in attack. Trying to blink as little as possible for fear of missing anything, you watch wide-eyed as your men deftly leap and roll out of the path of the stampeding animal. When the mudhorn stops and turns back towards the perceived threat to its young, the soldiers surround it again – rocking on the balls of their feet ready to evade its charge again. They aren’t always as lucky or fast enough – you cry out in anguish whenever the Mudhorn makes contact, sending your guard flying, landing with a sickening thud on the arena floor from the force of the impact. The crowd gasps in worry, cheering louder than ever when your men get up to rejoin their brethren in repeating the same maneuver over and over.

Din’s plan is working, the mudhorn is getting tired.

Part of you is relieved, the other hopes that its fatigue doesn’t make the creature desperate; though your men are still standing, you don’t know if any of them can sustain more injury to their bodies – an increasing danger that only grows as Din and your soldiers begin tightening the proverbial noose. You spy Din protracting his fibercord whip from his vambrace by hand only seconds before he does what you suddenly realize he’s going to do. The mudhorn is pawing at the ground, exhausted and angry while your men surround it, now each only about an arm’s length away, when Din uses a jetpack blast to leap onto its back - throwing the whipcord around its horn and pulling back on his makeshift reins. The other men scatter and the crowd screams as your General rides the wildly bucking animal around the arena. At their General’s direction, your men are now divided between two tasks: half shoot at the galloping beast that unwillingly bears their fearless leader and his son, their blaster bolts a distraction but doing little to the mudhorn’s tough hide; the remaining men tasked with capturing and restraining the calf – the seemingly easier task.

Heart nearly in your throat, you watch as Grogu climbs down the front of his father’s arm and onto the mudhorn, quickly crawling to the top of its head where the massive horn joins the creature’s skull. With one of his little green hands holding onto the cord his father holds taut and the other placed directly on the mudhorn’s woolly head, you see Grogu close his eyes in concentration. Gradually, the mudhorn’s steps slow and its movements around the arena become unsteady, then wobbly, before it finally teeters and crashes onto its side fast asleep. Din jumps off just in time to avoid being crushed by the animal’s huge body - Grogu does a dramatic flip into the air at the same time and lands perfectly in his father’s waiting arms. The crowd roars its approval.

The Flavian royals next to you are on their feet, clapping and cheering with astonishment and admiration – congratulating you on the victory of your men and thanking you for the fantastic show you’ve provided them today. Clasping your hands in appreciation, they heartedly assure you that the documents confirming your planet’s trade routes will be completed and delivered to you tomorrow.

You express your appreciation before turning your attention back towards the arena, heart full - relieved and proud of the men still on the fighting floor. You have to admit they make quite the sight waving to the cheering crowds while standing next to a sleeping mudhorn, two of your lieutenants holding a makeshift leash with a smaller mudhorn standing docile at its end. To the admiring masses, the large beast was subdued by these men, the might of your realm, but you know the truth. You blow a little kiss to Grogu who pretends to catch it in his little hand before waving back, happy but somewhat tired.

Even with his helmet on you can read Din’s expression as he looks up to the Royal Box. Where is my kiss, mesh’la?

You smile back a playful smirk just for the unseen eyes behind the dark T-visor. Later.

You pace in the large, ornamental suite that your hosts have graciously provided – it’s beautiful, a true testament to Flavian luxury and craftsmanship, but you have no attention to spare for its finery. Not when you’re straining your ears to listen for footsteps coming down the hall, eyes continuing to dart towards your door as if for some reason you may have missed hearing them come.

“Princess…”

Your lady’s maids, Olivia and Serine, pace right along with you, following your tracks around the grand room. They’re as exhausted as you are, but you know their hearts to be as determined as your own; you give them the most indulgent look you can muster and any plea to ask you to rest dies on their lips. The three of you continue to take turns listening intently for the telltale sounds of a soldiers’ march.

Finally, you hear something. Faint but purposeful footsteps walking in synchronicity – the herald of well-trained soldiers with an intended destination. Perked, you look to your faithful companions with renewed vigor and sprint to your door, flinging it open without grace and hurrying into the dimly lit hallway.

They’re still far enough down the hall that you have some time, even with your hastened steps, to study how your men appear to be faring; you know that when you ask, they will insist they are fine so not to worry you.

Two of your country’s finest are limping slightly, one of your lieutenants and a captain. Your other lieutenant is walking fine, but he has a nasty gash on his forearm, dripped, half dried blood wrapping around his wrist like a terrible bracelet. The armour of your realm that the legion proudly wears has taken a beating, covered in evidence of today’s bout – marked, dirty and bloodied, but none of the men themselves appear to be grievously injured.

But it’s the man at the front of the pack that you study the most sincerely. Din’s gait is not too unfamiliar for you to suspect he’s hiding any serious injury - he would know better than that. After the battle on the Fields of Planoor he had learned not to conceal his injuries from you, that you were so familiar with his body and the way it moves, you would know something was wrong without a single word from him. As Din stalks towards your group, you can feel the hot gaze from behind his visor assessing you just as you assess him; your General holds himself a bit straighter, his massive frame puffing in pride. He bears no sign of serious injury, a little sigh of relief escapes your lips as you continue to run down the hall, Olivia and Serine hot on your heels. But his back is probably killing him.

The men stop to a coordinated halt as you reach them; their weapons sheathed, they each raise their left fists to their chests and bow, “Princess.”

You wave your hands in a graceful but frantic manner, dismissing this need for formality, “Please. Are you okay? Is everyone alright?”

Reaching for Grogu, your heart settles a little when he climbs down from his secured perch on his father’s shoulder and leaps into your arms. Fussing over him, you check his fuzzy green ears and sweet face for injuries; when you run your hands over his limbs and body to do the same, he coos and giggles as if being tickled. Resting your palm against the security of the beskar rondel he wears beneath his tunic, you exhale in contented relief and place a long kiss to his head. He’s okay.

Those same words are now being echoed out loud in the low modulated rasp of the voice you trust most in this galaxy, “He’s okay, Princess. Not a scratch on him, the little womp rat. The Lieutenant could do with some fresh dressings for his arm, but the rest of us are fine – a bit banged up and tired, but nothing a warm bath and a good night’s rest can’t fix.”

Knowing that Din’s helmet will give nothing away, you study the faces of your countrymen, trying to ascertain if their beloved General is downplaying the damage for your sake. Finding no deception in their eyes, and knowing that they know you would know, you relent, “Have you eaten?”

“We were given sustenance after our victory.”

You raise your eyebrow at this, suspecting that Din’s words answer only for his men, but not necessarily himself. Nodding, you give your final charge for the evening, “Olivia, Serine, please kindly see our brave soldiers to their rooms, run their baths and tend to them as needed.”

Your ladies-in-waiting curtsey in assent at your words and intuitively, Olivia extends her arms for Grogu – there are no secrets between you and your closest companions. Din nods at her and she takes her favourite little green playmate into her arms, happy to help clean him and put him to bed tonight while his father is otherwise occupied.

Din turns to face his men – similarly, there are no secrets between the General and his most trusted squadron, men who love their princess with an unyielding loyalty that rivals only his own. Your father’s soldiers salute their esteemed leader, bidding their Princess and General goodnight before following Olivia and Serine to their assigned quarters.

Silently, you take Din’s hand and lead him back down the hallway to your room, careful not to hurry should he be much battered and sore, though the urgency in your chest is nearly bubbling over. Your concern appears to have been unfounded because as soon as the door to your room shuts, Din sweeps you into his arms with a force that takes your breath away - crushing you to his chest so tightly that you can feel him deflate beneath the hard beskar as he exhales his own long held sigh of relief.

You chuckle, “You would have thought that I was the one fighting cliff beasts in the arena today.”

“Cliff beasts?” Din tilts his head quizzically at you.

“I’ll tell you later. Right now, let’s get you out of your armour,” your fingers slide under his pauldrons, feeling for the familiar release mechanism.

“Cyar’ika, if you wanted to have your way with me, you only had to ask - you didn’t need to send me into a fight arena with a mudhorn,” jokes Din, wincing slightly from the stretch of his muscles as they contract and relax with the weight of his armour being lifted from his aching body.

You cluck your tongue in playful disapproval, even as you continue to make quick work of removing the rest of Din’s armour. With now practiced precision, you lift off his chest plates and the attachment frame, unhook his jetpack, unclip his cape, slide off his vambraces, unstrap his thigh plates, unlace his boots, unbuckle his belt, unzip his flight suit. The ceremony of this process is one you will never tire of, nor is its significance lost on you.

Din, a Mandalorian, willingly lets you touch his armour and remove it from his body – trusting your delicate hands with his most precious property: the physical embodiment of his honour and creed, the very symbol of his people. Not only that, but he allows you to strip him of protection and reveal his vulnerability to you, exposing him and his softness – he exists as the man beneath the beskar for you and you only. You’re the most privileged being in the galaxy – the weight of Din’s trust in you is something you will never take for granted.

When Din stands before you in only his boxers and helmet, you begin your study of his body in earnest. Dancing your fingers across his hard and tanned chest, you trace old scars in order to separate them from new marks; palming his torso and checking his thick arms with the same careful hands. Rounding your warrior, you continue your roaming examination over his muscular back and listen intently for any change in Din’s breathing when you press down on his tense shoulders – relieved when you hear him groan in satisfaction instead of pain. As you’re lightly scraping your nails over his wide thighs you hear the telltale unclicking of Din’s helmet – he beckons you.

Rising to meet his lowering face, you use your thumbs to lift the brim of Din’s helmet slightly, always keeping your eyes closed so you don’t see any of his face – not for the world would you betray Din’s trust. Mouth finding his easily, you kiss Din gingerly – unsure of what injuries he may have sustained beneath his helmet; lightly pecking his soft pout and pressing restrained affection to the corner of his mouth.

“I’m not going to break, cyare,” Din grins as if he’s reading your mind.

Snapping down his helmet with a bit more force than necessary, you peer up into the black horizonal stripe of his visor and sniffle, “I can see some big bruises starting to form over your abdomen and on the back of your thighs. And the muscles of your arms and back are overstrained and need to loosen or you’re going to be more sore tomorrow than you already will be.” The emotions you held in all day now start to spill over your lash line; dropping your head, you cry softly at the toll today’s events have taken on your strong man’s body and how he bears it without complaint. Contrite and indebted that he sustained these injuries at the behest of your kingdom - your behest, for you.

Din gathers you in his arms and pulls you flush to his chest, tilting back his helmet again he kisses you lovingly, devotedly – with every stroke of his tongue, every nibble of your lips, he reminds you that it is not only his duty, but his honour to serve your kingdom, to serve you. He would do anything for you, without you ever having to bid it. It is not in him to deny you anything, his heart’s desire is to give you everything.

“I love you, Princess.”

“I love you, General.”

Not without some difficulty, you pull yourself out of Din’s embrace and lead him to the suite’s fresher, running the taps of the large tub and scenting the water with fragrant, healing oils.

“I can do that, mesh’la,” one of Din’s large meaty hands covers yours as you test the temperature of the water.

Shaking your head shyly, you bring that hand up to your lips and kiss its calloused knuckles, “Please. Let me serve you, Din.”

“That is not befitting of a princess.”

“I am not like other princesses.”

Tilting your chin up with two of his thick fingers, you can feel the smile behind Din’s next words, “No, you are not. There is no one like you in the galaxy.”

“And I’m yours.”

The helmet, never having been relocked, is lifted again and Din sweeps you into a passionate, hungry kiss, different than the reassuring and devoted kisses of earlier – deeper, greedier.

“Get in the tub, Din,” you murmur against his lips while you can, before you forget your task and give yourself over to him completely.

Chuckling, Din can only acquiesce whenever he hears a direct request from your mouth – he never hears you command him as his sovereign, only ever as his love. No matter – he would obey either way. Stripping off his boxers, helmet still on, Din slips into the steamy water of the deep soaker tub, letting out a heady groan at the way all his muscles relax in reaction to the sudden heat against his rough skin.

With a soft footedness that still surprises Din, so used to picking up every little sound with his helmet’s acoustic sensors, you reappear suddenly with a small tray table bearing various Flavian fruits and wine for Din and a thin silk scarf for you.

“I know you didn’t eat after the match,” you say matter-of-factly when Din tilts his helmet in question. Neither did you.

“Will you join me, cyar’ika?”

“Of course, my love,” you begin to disrobe, perfectly understanding the double meaning of your General’s question.

Though he’s seen and worshipped your naked form more times that you can count, there’s always something about being unable to see the eyes that devour you which makes you shy. Able to detect the rise in temperature of your face, your bashfulness amuses Din to no end – if only you could see his own expression; every time Din sees you bare before him is like the first time, he thinks you might even laugh at the slack jawed, awestruck expression hidden by his helmet – if Mandalorians were to believe in a literal afterlife, then Din could well be deemed a heretic for he’s sure he’s already seen heaven.

Stepping in the tub, careful not to trip over Din’s strong legs, you settle on your knees in the water near his feet; taking the wash towel from the side of the tub, you lather it up with your own luxurious cleanser, the scent of which you know Din loves and begin to wash his body. With great care and affection, you wash and massage Din’s feet, calves and thick thighs, the two of you quietly chatting about your individual perspectives on what transpired in the arena today as you move up his body with your loving touch.

Din groans when you wash his groin area, and you smirk and pretend to throw him a look of disapproval even as you stroke his fast-hardening cock with the washcloth.

“Cyare…” he strains.

“Hmmmm?” Humming, you shimmy to straddle his lap and innocently begin to wash his hard chest and tree trunk arms.

“You’re teasing��”

“Not at all, I’m cleaning,” you giggle. Rising onto your knees, you lean over Din’s mountainous shoulder to clean his back, dangling your wet, supple breasts right at helmet visor level. Definitely teasing.

Two can play at this game. Din’s modulator muffles his snicker as he makes sure you’re entirely engrossed in your task of scrubbing his back, concentrating adorably so that you don’t notice when his big paws reach for your chest, groping and kneading the pillowy flesh with hardly any warning.

You squeal and grind down on Din’s cock - in retaliation he zeros in on your already pert nipples, rough fingers roll and pinch, flick and tug your pretty peaks until you forget your work and bury your face into his shoulder, completely lost to the pleasure that only the General can give you.

“Din,” your voice a soft whimper, needy yet still regal and melodic, “… you have to…”

“What do I have to do, Princess?”

His teasing tone makes you gush; this man knows exactly what he’s doing – you try to claw back some semblance of control over the situation, “You need to let me tend to any injuries you may have sustained under your helmet. And let me wash your hair.”

“Oh, do I?”

Nodding in earnest with your eyebrows raised, “Yes, and then you have to rest. Your body needs it.”

“My body needs you, mesh’la.”

Leaning back, your eyes follow the trail of your fingers as they rake down the smooth skin of Din’s broad chest, slowing over the various long-healed scars whose tales of origin you know by heart, you prepare yourself to argue your way. But the truth is, you don’t want your way – you need Din, too. Here on Flavin 5, there is no fear of getting caught, no need for hurried kisses or fleeting touches – the two of you have time. Time to enjoy one another. Time to let your hearts run rampant with affection and want.

Tomorrow morning is the last morning you can wake lazily in Din’s arms, like any other couple waking to just another day in the rest of your lives together. Tomorrow you will return home and your love for your steady warrior will once again need to be tucked away close to your heart, safe from the prying eyes of the kingdom.

So, you don’t argue.

“Injuries first, General.”

“I have none, Princess.” You can feel Din’s shit eating grin radiating from behind the beskar.

Grinding down a little on Din’s hardening length as a warning, “I should like to see for myself, thanks.”

“Of course, mesh’la. I would see you satisfied.” Though still smirking, it’s with enormous feeling that Din picks up the scarf from the side table and with his practiced hand, covers your eyes; wrapping the silk around your head twice before tying it securely. He doesn’t ask you if you can see, knowing that if you could you would volunteer it. Sitting prettily with your hands clasped together, you wait for the welcomed sound of Din’s helmet being lifted and set down where you scarf previously lay.

Heart full, your hands reach out to gently touch Din’s face, fingers tracing over the most intimate part of the man you love. His jaw relaxes as you stroke though his facial hair and his plush lips curl as your thumb brushes over them. Din’s strong nose feels unbroken, thank goodness – your gentle kiss to the tip earns you a breathy chuckle that tickles your throat. Mapping the strong lines of his forehead, you discover your first wound at Din’s hairline – the soft curls of his brown (or so you’re told) hair already matted and sticking with dried blood. When your fingers caress Din’s temple, you find a small superficial cut by his left eye, and your heart tightens further upon feeling a nastier slice on the apple of his cheek. Even without seeing and Din giving away no hint of tenderness at your touch, you’re sure there are bruises starting to form on the face you love.

Though you’ve never seen it, you know Din’s face – positive that you could pick it out of a crowd as surely as you could your own in a mirror. It’s the face of the strongest warrior you’ve ever known, one whose honour and integrity is as unbreakable as the beskar armour that covers his body. A protector who fights without fail to defend the weak, uphold justice, and push back against tyranny and corruption – no matter how hard something may be or the risk to his own self, the man who bears this face will never back down, always standing up for what’s right. It’s the face of a man who loves fiercely – loves his Creed, his people, his duty, his son, his woman. You. You know the face of this man, the man who owns your heart, your body, your soul - wholly and completely.

You wash this face, carefully cleaning your discoveries. Then, before you wash his hair, you cradle Din’s head delicately and check for bumps and scrapes, sighing in relief when you find none. Lathering up a generous amount of your shampoo, you distribute it through Din’s curls, massaging his scalp as he groans in approval. Your smile at the sound could melt even the steeliest warrior’s heart, Din is sure – it melts his.

When his hair is rinsed and face pat dry, salve applied to his wounds, you attempt to get Din to eat from the food on the tray.

“After, Princess,” Din’s voice somehow lower than when it’s filtered through his modulator.

“After what?” you pretend to be confused.

“After I have what I’m truly hungry for,” you can feel the sides of his face lift beneath your hands as the curve of his mouth pulls up into a wicked grin.

You flash him what you think is a mirroring smirk, “And what is that, General?”

Din takes an excruciating long time trailing his fingers featherlike down the column of your throat as an answer. His massive hand skate over your naked breasts, pinky pretending to be caught on your pert nipple before catching up with its brethren that have moved on to tickling your soft tummy. When his hand finally dips below the water, it’s no more hurried, no less teasing – knuckling down the front of you, his hand so big and wide, his thumb and baby finger stretch to slowly stroke along the apex of your thighs at the same time with no additional effort at all. You quiver at your warrior’s languid and gentle touch – that these same hands are trained for weapons and brutality is not lost on you; how lucky are you to be able to feel them as they are now, so close to where you need them, reverent and worshipful. Hands meant for building up and protecting, instead of tearing down and destroying - and yet you know them capable of both - and moreover, that they can and will do both to you.

Leaning forward to press your lips tenderly to Din’s, you whisper, “Promise you’ll eat after?”

He knows the condition of the ask is empty - you need him as much as he does you, both of you hungry for more than the food your empty stomachs growl for. The worry you felt for your Mandalorian every second he was in the arena today has morphed into a blazing desire now that you have him secure once again in your loving arms; even when he was facing blaster fire or the murderous glare of a mudhorn today, Din’s thoughts never strayed far from the moment he could return to your warm embrace.

But he plays along, because he knows you need to hear it, “I promise, cyare.” And then, because your well being is always as much on the forefront of his mind as his is yours, Din adds, “As long as you eat with me.”

“Promise. Now touch me please, Din,” you’re trembling, not just from want but need, a need for the reassurance that he’s here safe, that the violence you saw in the arena did not touch him.

Even if he had not pledged his fealty to your kingdom, Din would submit to your request, to you – if it were up to him, he would spend the remainder of his days catering to your every whim, carrying out your will, doing anything and everything necessary to ensure your happiness.

He parts your folds with his fingers, finding you slick and ready for him. As Din glides his thick digits along your seam, your soft moans fill the steamy room, “Ohhh Din, yes right there, please.”

“Such a polite little princess, isn’t she?” hums Din, loving how responsive you always are for him. He kisses down your neck, nipping at your shoulder as you come to a rest against his chest. You’re shuddering from the way he’s stroking your pussy, swirling infuriatingly at your needy hole but never dipping inside, teasing you with long broad swipes up to your clit.

Pressing his thumb against your already slippery nub, Din takes advantage of your lack of sight and surprises you by dipping his head down to take one of your breasts in his mouth at the same time – you cry out from this sudden double attack, body trying to run.

The old bounty hunter in him activated, Din chuckles and increases the pressure of his hand on your pulsing clit, and with his free hand, he holds you firm by the nape of your neck - face now buried deep in your cleavage, biting and sucking every bit of soft flesh his mouth can find. Rolling your pert nipple between his teeth, he seals his lips over the sensitive peak and murmurs, “I got you, mesh’la. Let me make you feel good.”

At his sure words, you immediately relax and willingly giving yourself over to your warrior, sighing in surrender as he worships you with his fingers and his mouth. This is the only time that you allow yourself to be covetous of what is not rightfully yours – Din’s face you may know without having ever seen, but the lascivious sight of what he looks like when he loses himself in your pleasure remains a mystery. You secretly long to see it – wishing to know how dark his eyes burn, how his lips wet and plump, how his brow might furrow or relax in reaction to your whines and whimpers.

If you were his riduur – no. No, you can’t let yourself go down that path of longing, it only ends in heartbreak.

As if he can sense that your mind has started to wander, Din slips two of his thick fingers deep in your heat and curls them, beckoning you back to him. You fly right back into the moment and to the space of devotion that he holds just for you, gasping for air at the stretch of his welcomed intrusion.

“Need to get you ready for my cock, cyare,” purrs your Mandalorian, bringing you back fully and binding your heart to his in the here and now.

Nodding almost mindlessly, you crash your mouth to Din’s. The kiss is desperate, needy for so many reasons – your tongues licking and chasing, dancing to the song of perfect pleasure that strums along the electric current that connects you. Din feverishly conducts the symphony of your body – grand upward motions of his fingers in your cunt send waves of bliss that crescendo through your core; the sweeping of his lips against yours keeps you in tempo with his own urgency; his rolling downward gestures on your clit coils the band below your belly tighter and tighter.

No one can play you like Din can – beneath the beskar armour he’s a master musician, lover. Like the weapons he so deftly wields and handles, your body is an instrument he knows intimately – every shift, slight change or tensing is noted and adjusted for so he can optimize performance, maximize your pleasure. Din knows you’re going to come before you do by the key in which your breath hitches, the cadence of your fluttering walls.

“Come for me, Princess,” he growls, biting down on your plush bottom lip. Now it’s your turn to obey – you come with an arch of your back and a chorus sung to your General’s name, Din, Din, Din, Din.

Here you can be as loud for as long as you want and Din can fuck you through your high for as long as you need, withdrawing his fingers and licking them clean only when your cunt is complacent enough to release him, “Always taste so sweet, cyar’ika.” You sigh at the filthy sounds of another forbidden sight you long, lust for.

Lips finding his again, you taste yourself on Din’s tongue and tease, “I thought we were eating after.”

This time it’s Din’s turn to act coy, repeating your question from earlier with a knowing smirk against your pout, “After what?”

In response, you reach between your bodies and even without the benefit of sight, easily find Din’s hard, throbbing cock. Stroking his length with your delicate hands, you lift to line him up with your entrance and wordlessly sink down, “After you come, General.”

“As you wish, Princess,” Din groans at the way your pussy hugs him. When you feel him shift beneath you to plant his feet on the bottom of the tub, you stop Din with a hand on his wide chest and shake your head, “You’re tired and your body needs rest, my love. Let me do the work.”

Big, loving hands come up to cradle your head and a playful but reverent tone accompanies Din’s protest, “A General’s duty is to serve his Princess.” You tilt into his paw and nuzzle; your Mandalorian’s affectionate touch and the feeling of fullness combine in making you compliant. Leaning in close you ghost over Din’s lips, “Together then.”

Half awestruck, half groaning in agreement, Din slides his hands back down your soft body to come to a rest on your waist, holding you gentle and secure, “Together.”

It’s easy to find the perfect rhythm, your bodies already so in tune with one another. Din’s slow upward thrusts meet your lighter bounces halfway, causing the water of your bath to ripple and splash against the sides of the tub. It’s tender and patient until it isn’t – with no communication other than your soft whinnying and Din’s grunts and heavy breathing, your tempo and intensity remain matched, building together.

Always together. How you love being together with your Mandalorian. How you love him.

You press yourself to Din, the rise and fall of his chest grounding you as your hips work in tandem with his. Arms snaking around his neck, you cling to the General as your joint movements become more fervent and passionate, the water now choppy from your lovemaking.

Together. Everything is better when you’re together. You were able to get through today, together.

Love, relief and gratitude flood your pleasure wracked body as you crawl up Din’s broad mountain frame to find his lips. Latching your mouth to your Mandalorian’s, you kiss him heady and desperate. Every press of your plush and swollen pout thankful for his survival, of today’s fight and of all the fights that came before today so that he could come into your life. A thank you to maybe that same mystical force that gives Grogu his unexplainable powers, for making the man that fills you so full at the moment the warrior, the father, the man is. Thankful that he loves you. For all of him.

Din meets every brush of your lips with the same devotion, somehow able to read the emotion behind your eyes without seeing them - the same way you’re able to read him even when he’s hidden behind his helmet. He himself grateful for bringing his son and your countrymen back to you safe, for being the one to give you what you needed for the success of your mission. A thank you to that same power than runs in his son’s veins and makes him a warrior far stronger than Din could ever be, for bringing him to you. Grateful that a woman as regal, compassionate, and kind as you saw past his hard armoured exterior to the man beneath and holds him in your esteem. And in your heart.

“Ni kar'tayl darasuum gar,” Din growls with a deep rumble of his chest that echoes off the walls. I love you.

“Ni kar'tayl darasuum gar,” you cry back in the perfect pronunciation that Din taught you. I love you.

Neither of you able to hold back your love for one another nor the crest of your bodies any longer – coming together, lyrical song sung loud and shameless. The Princess and the General have nothing to hide here, tonight.

Later, after you’ve each eaten and drank your fill of Falvian fruits and wine, and you’ve massaged and kneaded Din’s sore muscles until you’re satisfied with the way his aches have melted away, Din guides you, still blindfolded, out of the cooled bath to the bed.

With Din protectively hovering over your naked body ready to take you again, you realize that as thankful as you’ve been feeling, you haven’t actually acknowledged those sentiments out loud to the man to whom you owe everything, “Thank you, Din. Thank you for being the might of the realm.”

Though he knows you cannot see them, Din’s eyes fill with a love he hopes he can properly convey in other ways, “No need to thank me, cyar’ika, it will always be my honour to fight for you. You must know - you are the might of the realm. The realm prospers and remains strong because its Princess is brave, smart, good. You’re everything, mesh’la. You’re my might – I can only do the things I can because I do them for you. I would do anything for you.”

You feel the scarf you wear across your eyes dampen as it absorbs your tears, “I know, Din.” Happy, content, you welcome your General between your legs once more; and with the rare luxury of time and freedom that the two of you have been gifted tonight, you know it won’t be the last time.

#the glandolorian 2024 #din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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myusuchaa · 2 days ago

Text

with you in a distorted fairy tale ༻¨*:·.

'dark if ' chapter 1 - elbert greetia

This is a fan translation and may not be 100% accurate. I do not own anything. Cybird reserves the right of ownership for all in-game content.

author's note: Throughout this story, Kate refers to Elbert with feminine pronouns 彼女, and Elbert's title is the Queen 女王. Therefore, in sentences where Elbert is the main subject, sometimes you will see Elbert's pronouns listed as she/her. (i.e, "Elbert removed her hands"). This may be a bit confusing to read through, but I wanted to keep the translation as accurate and close to the original material as possible.

Victor: Miss Kate, your hands have the power to create the ultimate happy ending.

Victor: Now, come, and enjoy your time in this distorted fairy tale world.

Somebody's fingertips lightly grazed the back of my neck.

Kate: ..mnnn

I squirm from ticklish stimulation as someone whispers into my ear.

???: --Ah...It's definitely- ....-not

(What... what is this..)

Before I could make sense of those whispered words, I groggily began to wake up.

When I awakened fully, I found myself in a soft bed.

(Where am I..?)

Blonde, blue eyed beauty: Ah, you're awake.

A "woman" [1] with moonlight hair and sea-blue eyes peered into my face.

[1] When Kate awakens, she perceives Elbert as a woman. The pronoun is placed in quotations to indicate that he is not really a woman, just seems like one thanks to Al's ability.

(Wah... I've never seen such a beautiful person before..)

Kate: Could.. could this be heaven?

Man with raven colored hair: Unfortunately no, this is your reality.

The man standing next to the beautiful woman replied with a chuckle.

The dark-haired man is just as bewitching.. charming, even, to look at, making the two before me a truly eye-catching duo.

Man with raven colored hair: You've just woken up, is there anything you feel is wrong with your body?

Man with raven colored hair: You were found collapsed in the forest by a hunter who brought you here.

Kate: Oh, I see.... my body feels fine! Thank you very much for saving me.

I got up from the bed and bowed to both of them.

Kate: In any case.... exactly where am I?

Blonde, blue eyed beauty: ....this is my castle.

Queen Elbert: I run this this country..... as the "Queen of Greed" - Elbert.

Mirror Alfons: I am Alfons the Mirror, the Queen's servant. I hope we will continue to get to know each other [2].

[2] In Japanese, Alfons uses ｢以後お見知りおきを｣ which is similar to saying "I hope you will remember me in the future." Here, it is meant to be a surface level greeting for someone you know you'll see again, though more commonly you'd say 「よろしくお願いします」 or "It's nice to meet you". But I think the meaning behind the first phrase really plays into Al's curse and fated end.

(The Hunter, the Greedy Queen, and the Mirror...)

(Then this must be... the fairy tale world of "Snow White"?)

If this is the case, then the other remaining important characters are the Prince and Snow White.

(I wonder of one of these people are what's missing in this story.)

Queen Elbert: As you've just woken up...... are you hungry, Snow White?

Queen Elbert: I was thinking of preparing a meal for you.

Kate: Sn-... Snow White? That's.... me?

Mirror Alfons: The Hunter gave you that name.

Mirror Alfons: A beautiful girl laying in pure, white snow-- Snow White.

Mirror Alfons: And so, you were taken in by the Queen, who is looking for the most beautiful thing in the world.

Mirror Alfons: Thus, I had you brought to the castle-- such is your story.

(I'm Snow White in this world...)

(...then, wouldn't it be dangerous for me to be near Queen Elbert?)

In the traditional story, the Queen is jealous of Snow White's beauty, and attempts to poison her.

There hasn't been any hostility toward me here yet, but..... it's definitely better safe than sorry.

Kate: Aaaaah, well! Thank you for your help, then.

Kate: However, I don't think I need a meal right now. Well, if you'll excuse me.......

Realizing the situation I was in, I quickly tried to get out of the bed.

--However, at that moment, Elbert grabbed my hand.

Queen Elbert: Where are you going?

Kate: ...Ah uhmm.. I'm going back home to my family.

Mirror Alfons: Oh? Dear, do not lie to us.

Mirror Alfons: While you were asleep, we confirmed that you are not a resident of this country.

Mirror Alfons: Coming here alone, a foreigner from abroad.... what home do you have to go back to?

(What should I do... I can't escape this...)

(No one would believe that I actually came from another world...)

Queen Elbert: ......Snow White.

Kate: Y- yes!

Queen Elbert: .....I personally do not care who you are, or where you came from.

Kate: Eh...?

Queen Elbert: As Queen, I should punish you for coming here on unlawful terms, but...

Queen Elbert: More importantly, I want to obtain the most beautiful thing in the world.

Queen Elbert: And you might be what I've been looking for..... so please, stay in this castle for a while.

Kate: Ah, that....

Queen Elbert: Of course, we will provide food, clothing, and shelter for you.

Queen Elbert: And if you require money, I'll give it to you, whatever sum you ask for.

Queen Elbert: For my own sake...... please, stay in this castle.

As Elbert wished this, her eyes looked extremely lonely, almost desperate.

There was no way I could brush her off and refuse her offer.

Kate: If you say it that way.... then okay, I understand. I'm not sure what I'll be able to do but...

Kate: Oh, and I don't intend to ask for money. I'd be grateful just to have food, clothing, and shelter.

(If you think about it.... it's easier to find the missing part of the story if I'm near the main character.)

Queen Elbert: Thank you, Snow White.

As Elbert expressed her gratitude with a gracious expression, she did not look like the type of cruel person who would poison Snow White.

--time skip--

We were shown to a dining room where a wide variety of dishes were lined up on the table.

Queen Elbert: I didn't know what you liked, so I let the chef make whatever he could think of.

Queen Elbert: ........Please, eat as much as you want of whatever you'd like.

Kate: Oh... thank you very much.

The freshly cooked food was steaming, and the delicious aroma wafting through the air stimulated my appetite.

(....But, if I were Snow White, I'd have to be careful about what I eat.)

(Apples, in particular, should be avoided.)

Although I still don't sense any hostility from Elbert, due to the background story of this world, I couldn't help but be wary.

Kate: Um... are there any dishes that contain apples..?

Queen Elbert: ...........Why do you ask?

The moment I asked, the air around Elbert became tense, and her blue eyes became cold.

Kate: Well... I can't eat apples because of my allergy to them. They make my mouth itchy....

Without even understanding the reason for her icy stare, I lied about the reason.

Queen Elbert: ...I see.

Queen Elbert: If that's the case, there's no need to worry. In this castle, we do not eat apples.

Kate: Is that so...

I was curious and wanted to ask why apples weren't used here, but I was too hesitant, and refrained from asking in the end.

Meanwhile, Queen Elbert picked up a piece of bread and tore it in two.

Queen Elbert: ...Which would you prefer, left or right?

Kate: Uhhhh.. right.

Elbert then took a bite out of the left bread, and handed the right to me.

Queen Elbert: ...Mm, it's delicious. Please go ahead and eat, too.

(Maybe he knew I was on guard this entire time and he's trying to tell me the food is safe this way.,?)

Kate: Thank you very much...

The bread slice I got from Elbert had a gentle sweetness and was delicious all around.

Queen Elbert: I also recommend trying this salad, which uses vegetables from a nearby village.

After seeing that I finished the bread, Elbert took her portion of the salad and started eating it.

Seeing that, I went ahead and ate my salad.

Elbert eats some, and then I eat some more.... this strange back and forth of meal tasting continued for some time...

Kate: Thank you for the meal! Everything was delicious!!

Queen Elbert: .............

Kate: Elbert?..

Queen Elbert: My stomach........hurts......

Kate: Wha!?

Mirror Alfons: I came to check on y- Elbert?

After coming to the dining hall, Alfons quickly donned a shocked expression and went to support Elbert by the shoulders.

Kate: Umm.... is Elbert okay?

Mirror Alfons: She simply ate too much... She is usually a small eater, so she pushed himself too hard.

(Could it be... she was forcing herself to eat a lot to put me at ease and help me eat as well...)

Seeing Elbert's kindness, I began to feel ashamed of myself for being scared of eating poisoned food under his watch.

Kate: Ah well.... I'll help out too!

I stood on the opposite side of Alfons to help support Elbert.

(..Oh?.. The Queen has a surprisingly sturdy build...)

(Wait! No, no!! Now's not the time to be thinking these things.... let me just help out with a pure mind..)

With the help of Alfons, we put Elbert to bed in her room.

Mirror Alfons: It's not an illness, so if she rests, she'll feel better soon.

Kate: Elbert... I'm sorry for making you eat too much..

Queen Elbert: I chose this myself.. so no need to apologize with such a sad look on your face.

Elbert's hand gently brushed across my face.

Queen Elbert: You're more adorable when you smile than when you're sad.

Queen Elbert: So please... do not worry about my health.

Kate: Mm! Then, thank you for the delicious meal!

Elbert took her hand off my cheek and gave me a soft smile.

She was supposed to be the Queen who poisoned Snow White, and yet her smile made my heart race.

Queen Elbert: By the way, I still have not gotten your name. Snow White.... what is your real name?

Kate: It's Kate.

Queen Elbert: I see... Then, Kate, it is lovely to meet you.

--time skip--

That night in my bed chamber, I decided to plan my course of action.

(The Queen has been friendly to me so far, so I'll have to get serious about finding the missing piece of the story starting tomorrow.)

(The only things that are from the story that I have not tracked down yet are the poisoned apple and the Prince.)

(However, searching for the poisoned apple is quite risky.... it may be better to search for the Prince first.)

On the second day in this world, I decided to cooperate with Queen Elbert.

Queen Elbert: A Prince.....?

Kate: Yes! I want to find the one and only Prince who will love me.

Kate: Please, Your Highness...will you help me?

Queen Elbert: ...........

Queen Elbert seemed to think very carefully about my request.

Queen Elbert: Why exactly do you want to find the Prince?

Queen Elbert: You said yesterday that you did not need money, and you simply brushed Al off when he tried to flirt with you.

Queen Elbert: If you are not swayed by money or the opposite sex, why would you want to seek out the Prince?..... I don't quite understand.

Kate: That's... erm.... finding him is necessary to make my wish come true.

(I am searching for what is missing in this world to correct the distortions, and then return to my reality.... That is what I should do...)

(The Queen seemed to be troubled by my statement........ I can try one last time to do something...)

Ah, that's it!

Kate: People become more beautiful when they are in love....

Kate: If a Prince whom I love and loves me appeared before me.... perhaps we can find the most beautiful thing you are searching for.

Queen Elbert: ...Really?

As soon as Elbert heard it was a beautiful thing, her eyes widened and she came over to me.

Her large hands gripped my shoulders so hard it hurt.

Kate: Y-yes.... that is... most likely so...

(They say falling in love makes people more beautiful-- that isn't wrong per se...y'know?)

Queen Elbert: If there's potential, then so be it. Thank you for trying to make my wish come true, Kate.

Queen Elbert: Let us gather all the people in this nation to search for a Prince... the one and only Prince who will make you beautiful.

Thus began the search for the Prince, led by Queen Elbert.

Chapter 2 -> coming soon

page dividers from @/adornedwithlight

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #ikevil #elbert greetia #ikemen villains elbert #ikevil elbert #yandere #fairy tale #fairycore #ikevil story event #snow white #alternate universe #ikevil alfons #alfons sylvatica #ikevil translations

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something-wild-calls · 2 days ago

Text

Modded by @loupy-mongoose.

Jamie Wild was a character originally created as a trainersona more than a decade ago, who gradually evolved into a character all her own and ended up the protagonist of a yet-unpublished Soul Silver Nuzlocke called Shadowed Soul. In recent years, after these many years of building her character and the Pokemon world around her, I've been wanting to make her completely my own, world and all.

Someday I still hope to tell her Nuzlocke story and keep up with her in the Linden Roots world, but here I will be giving an alternate version of that story--Some elements will remain the same or minimally changed, while some changes will be drastic. So both stories will hold their own merit, when comes time to tell them both. :>

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Asks Notice:

I'm having the inbox open only so that people can ask about specific curiosities, and allow for prompt inspiration. This is not an interaction or Role Play blog! I won't say it's impossible, but any asks worded as such will likely not be answered as such, and may not be answered at all. That being said, I do reserve the right to answer as I see fit. XD

For now I will leave anonymous available, but I will turn it off if anyone chooses to act in ill-will or with weird intentions.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Some notes about this story:

-The setting is the same world as my other story The Matters of Life and Death. So some things, such as staffwyrms and the way magic works, is the same between stories.

-I currently plan to tell it in a slice-of-life manner, probably through mixed means of comic, artworks, answered asks, and potentially writings.

-My aim with this blog and story is to have fun above all else! It's something I feel I shouldn't have to say, but at the same time I also feel I've lost touch with that particular motive. So I'm hoping to remind myself that my art and stories are mine, and are for my entertainment first and foremost.

For those interested in this old tale being made new, welcome! I hope you enjoy the journey! ^w^

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Content warnings under the Read More (To save space.)

WARNINGS LIST FOR THIS BLOG (Subject to updates)

DEATH INJURY/BLOOD VIOLENCE SPIRITUAL/SOUL DISCUSSION. (Not really in a Christian sense, but I'll try to tag it as such if it gets too close.) CHILD ABUSE CHILD NEGLECT CHILD INJURY/ENDANGERMENT CHILD ABANDONMENT

Related Tags to mute if desired:

#TW: Death -- #TW: Injury -- #TW: implied injury -- #TW: Blood -- #TW: Violence -- #TW: Christianity (If it comes up, but I don't expect it to.) -- #TW: Child Abuse -- #TW: Child Neglect -- #TW: Child injury -- #TW: Child Endangerment -- #TW: Child Abandonment

#Extra stuff

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mythalism · 2 days ago

Note

i'm back in the building.

i'm still on my first playthrough, slogging through it but i think i realized what it is about this game that feels more like a chore than an actual gaming experience. i talked about the cinematics and like that's a whole thing i have beef with in the world where we have mocap and also just genuinely amazing technology for animation development but WHATEVERRR.

as a person who enjoys story games even without creating my oc, like red dead 2, the witcher series, the reason i find veilguard lacking is that rook is neither an every man character (ala hawke & shepherd 🩷) nor are they an empty enough canvas to fill in (ala hof, inq, tarnished in elden ring) it kinda feels that even as a player you have to suspend disbelief for your own character.

like for example in the witcher, all of geralt's choices cross over through three games and really you can dress him & comb him how you like but the choices are story related and you can still find satisfaction in them. same with red dead 2 and arthur where the game is more rigid storywise but still, you can unlock two endings depending on how you approach arthur's personality as a person.

and the crux of the issue is rook is not a person. they are in every way, a video game character. the infantile gameplay (left off from the mmo no doubt with no tactical view, quest summaries, limited "loot" boxes, no interaction with fauna, no actual crafting just upgrading) the juvenile writing / "storytelling" (telling fans to interpret the plot however they want, trick saying it's possible the evanuris aren't even all gone which renders the entire game pointless if we did all that and elgar'nan is in turkey getting new veneers fitted.) the fact that rook is basically woe. storyline be upon ye. (taash's identity being chosen for them ???, telling either low app, high app, or rom inq what to do w solas and yes the dialogue option of yay let's save him! also exists w low app inq?? which is to say to stop solas isn't the same as having low app but they didn't even let players choose that lol you can still change inq's mind)

like the whole game is an mmo without the multiplayer aspect. the storyline is loosey goosey because well most multiplayers are bc they go through rancid updates and additions (fallout 84 comes to mind specifically, and considering how badly that flopped idk how bioware saw the reception and went yay!!!!! lets do that!!!) and all your companions prefer to interact w each other than you because well. yeah. you're a player. you're not playing a character, you're basically playing yourself or at the very least a very conceptual idea of yourself in this fantasy realm.

anyway i have a nuke enroute to ea's HQ. that's all 🙂‍↕️

i just read this like an old man reading the morning paper, sipping coffee and nodding along like 🙂‍↕️ mhm mhm 🙂‍↕️ 🙂‍↕️

i completely agree with all of this and it really clicked for me how much the multiplayer bones of the game impacted the story and choice specifically. like obviously ive known about the multiplayer foundations for like 5 years and how it’s sooooo clear in the gameplay but this just made it click for me that it’s literally to blame for the story too… of course none of the choices are truly significant. multiplayer games fundamentally cannot have significant choice that affects the world because not everyone will make the same choice. the only MMO I’m super familiar with is ESO and when i think of the choices you’re allowed to make in that game versus what you’re allowed to do in veilguard…. yeah. they’re both shallow, and usually only cosmetic. it makes sense to me that the choice like minrathous vs treviso is pretty much just cosmetic, and then it takes content away instead of adding something new. the companion choices seem to really only manifest in some new banter? except for maybe emmrich? like it’s so clear that they had this multiplayer foundation, which is mutually exclusive with meaningful player choice, and then were told to build a single player RPG on top. it was literally an impossible ask.

also hard agree on everything you said about rook. i literally hate rook LMFAO they are so nothing - like a voice acted MMO character… i do want to play the game a second time but i want to play a veil jumper elf and genuinely the fact that my dalish elf character would have the dread wolf in her back pocket and just never ask him a single fucking question on anything that she and her entire culture have devoted their lives to figuring out and learning is so fucking infuriating I cannot stand to put myself through it

#asks #thank u for sharing ur thots 🙂‍↕️💓

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bronx-bomber87 · 2 days ago

Note

I know we’re all struggling with this endless hiatus and the lack of new content, so I thought it would be fun to resurrect the #chenfordchats that were circling around the fandom earlier this year. We previously did a question on favorite Tim Bradford quotes, so this time let’s do Lucy! What are your favorite 3-5 (or more if you want) Lucy Chen quotes from the entire series 😊

This does feel endless doesn't it? Not sure why this hiatus has felt longer than when we had the writers strike. That didn't have an end date for a long time. We have one for this one and it's felt worse. Probably because of all the BTS being withheld for now. We're all starving for content of any kind they'll give us. They've been restricted from sharing much of anything. So we're going little stir crazy. 47 days to go LOL We can do it.

This was not easy because these asks never are but always fun. Appreciate the challenge of them. Here we go. These aren't in any particular order BTW. Except by season cause I can't help but organize it. So maybe they are in a specific order ha But not one of ranking by any means. Also I'm not so good at staying within the numbers lmao I suck at it really. So I just did ones I love and I'm probably forgetting some I love but hopefully not.

If I am missing any feel free to do this as well or let me know your favs in the comments. Also these come with commentary cause I am me after all ahaha Was hard to find quotes I love that aren't just Chenford related but Lucy too if that makes sense. That's real hard cause they're so intertwined lol Anyways this is my crack at it please enjoy and don't hesitate to comment should you like to. Also feel free to participate as well more fun when people join in :)

1x01-What's not to love about her opening line as a character? So confident and ready to go. Look at her. Love everything about this line. Confidence rolling off her as she says. Hasn't been squashed yet by her future soulmate....

1x03-I LOVE this line for how it lands with Tim. But mainly we get to see the early sparks of confident Lucy putting Tim in his place. Standing up for herself. Because if she doesn't her career is going up in flames along with Tim's epic flameout. Telling him like it is and I love her for it.

1x07-Another amazing line that lands so well. This is an iconic scene but this line right here. This IMO is what keeps Tim from crossing that line. It's so spot on. She went out on a major limb and it pays off. Just love this line in particular.

2x01-Are we sensing a theme? LOL It was accidental. But I do love Lucy putting my boy in his place when warranted. Standing up for herself in the process. Straight up owns his ass in this argument with dem fighting words. Love her for it.

2x08-Always love watching her fierce loyalty come out despite rank. heh I love this line. Because once again calling someone out on their crap. Why we love our girl so much isn't it? So many reasons but this is definitely one of them.

2x10-Our poor girl so very frustrated with dating especially as a cop. This is an epic line that I don't think gets enough love. Cracks me up so much.

2x11-Love me some BAMF Lucy. It's one of my favs. The fierceness she shows not only saying this line. But making sure she makes eye contact with Caleb when she delivers it. I love her so much. We all know how true this statement ended up.

3x05-This seems like two quotes in one cause it kinda is. Already breaking the rules as is so here we are haha Fiercely protective Lucy reporting for duty with this quote. Loved it so much. She gonna beat your ass Stanton.

3x07-This line will never cease to crack me up. She owns his ass this entire episode really. It's one giant mic drop for her. This one is one of my all time favs of that ep and in general. I dare you to watch that scene let alone that ep and not be laughing.

4x16-Her reply to Tim's reaction makes me cackle. Her comedic timing is perfection. She is fed up with her hubby at this point and it makes me laugh so much. Goes from playful to over it immediately.

4x22-Lucy's reaction to Juicy is an all time fav. She was having fun messing with Tim over Dim till then. Her replies are so funny I love this quote for how much it makes me laugh every time. She is disturbed and not having fun anymore. LOL

5x12-Such an iconic way to drive her point home with this epic line. No more needed to be explained after this line. I adore this quote and the way she delivers it to Tim.

Lucy Chen is me when i'm prepping for anything with my anxiety. This cracked me up so very hard. Also couldn't find a gif of this glorious line. So just edited down a gif I did ha but I adore this line for how much I related with it LOL She is me when I am prepping.

That's all folks. Hope you enjoyed my rambles. Feel free to comment or do your own that would be fun to see others do it as well. Best part of fandom doing stuff like this. Seeing what everyone loves.

#chenford chats #chenford #lucy chen #the rookie #tim x lucy #chenfordchats

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familiarscars · 6 hours ago

Text

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 08

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

Your eyes seemed to burn from the intensity of the light streaming through the window as your eyelids slowly peeled apart. The sound of a beeping monitor, a white room, and unfamiliar blue bedding came into focus, along with the IV lines running from your arm, causing discomfort whenever your body moved.

The sides of your head throbbed with such unbearable pain that your fingers pressed against your temples, as if fearing they might detach from your neck at any moment. Everything in your mind was a dark blur, with no identifiable cuts of clarity.

Yet the one certainty you had was why you’d ended up here—your body’s reactions made that abundantly clear. Your mouth was so dry that your lips stuck together, and your heart threatened to pound out of your chest with its relentless rhythm. Taking a sip of water seemed like a good way to silence the gnawing pain in your stomach, but as soon as you stretched your arm toward the bottle on the nearby table, it slipped through your fingers as a wave of dizziness clouded your vision.

“Shit,” you murmured, barely audible.

A sequence of claps drew your attention to the door, and your body instinctively straightened in the bed, despite the lingering pain in your left arm. Each clap synchronized with a step, and the expressions on his age-marked face clearly conveyed his lack of enthusiasm to be there, along with a palpable sense of disdain.

“Congratulations!” Gerard ceased his clapping as he stopped beside your bed. “It’s astonishing how you continue to surprise me with your incompetence.”

His eyes scanned your state with the air of someone examining something detestable, and when they met your face again, he shook his head in a theatrical display of disappointment.

“As if it weren’t enough for your face to be plastered all over the internet because you lost it and attacked a fan, now I have to endure the media interrogating me about why one of my vocalists overdosed at a party in my house!” he hissed through gritted teeth, raking his fingers aggressively through his hair. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

“I’d answer if I could remember anything,” you sighed in exhaustion, laying your head back against the pillow, wishing only for the throbbing, miserable pain to subside.

“Right now, we were supposed to be at the photoshoot for the band’s new winter clothing line, and guess what?” he emphasized. “They all refused to go because of you!”

“Want me to feel sorry?” you retorted with a scoff. “We’ve never even seen a dólar from those clothes. Looks like I did them a favor.”

Arguing at this point required more effort than your body seemed capable of mustering. Each word exchanged only amplified the pounding in your head, made worse by the grating irritation of his voice drilling into your brain.

“Noah’s decided it’s time for you to step back from the band and focus on getting help. He’s compiled a list of specific places for that,” Gerard gestured animatedly with his hands. “Isn’t that lovely?”

Amid the chaotic jumble of your thoughts, you forced yourself to recall flashes from the previous night. You couldn’t be certain whether it was your mind fabricating memories or if you truly heard Noah’s desperate voice, even though it sounded distant in your ears.

If it had happened, and he still cared enough about your recovery to suggest stepping away, it meant that, in some small way, he still cared. But why did this realization prick at the fabric beneath your skin? You couldn’t find an answer.

“I accept.” You agreed, snapping out of your thoughts, raising your eyes to Gerard, who stood with arms crossed, leaning against the bed. “I want to go to rehab.”

“No, that’s not how this works.”

Your brow furrowed at the sly tone in his voice as he stepped closer. Instinctively, you leaned back, trying to distance yourself from him, but the edge of the bed stopped you.

“We have two festivals in the next two weeks and a tour starting next month, and I’m not letting you ruin them like you did today’s shoot. In our last conversation, I gave you incentives to endure the routine, just like we’ve always done since you proved to be weak. It’s your obligation to learn to moderate!”

“Get out of my room! Stay away from me!” Your voice cracked, the edge of its firmness faltering. Keeping composure was no longer possible when all you felt was exhaustion, and even that wretched emotion he insisted on suppressing.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Slowly, he leaned over you, gripping the curve of your elbow where the IV was attached, pressing the needle into your skin. Your body flinched at the sharp sting tearing through your senses, and you found yourself forced to meet his expressionless eyes.

“But when Noah walks through that door, you’re going to be a good girl and convince him you don’t need help. It’s not like you’ve never lied to him before, right? You’ll return to work and fulfill your schedule without letting that idiot interfere with my plans to keep the band together! I’m not losing money!” He enunciated every word, never breaking eye contact. “And do you know why you’re going to do this?”

“You’re hurting me.”

“Because you don’t want me giving a statement that your overdose was caused by your ex-boyfriend, who just happened to be in the same place where the emergency team found your body,” Gerard said, pressing his thumb harder into your skin. “It won’t be hard to make them believe me when they find what I’ve planted in his room.”

A warm trickle of blood seeped from the IV site as he pressed on it, the same pace at which it began to sting.

“You’re contradicting yourself when you claim to prioritize the band’s integrity, yet your first ‘mature’ decision is to destroy it entirely. You know my absence won’t affect Bad Omens’ performance, but doing this to Noah would tear it all apart. It makes no sense.”

Actually, a realization struck you faster than you anticipated. Gerard knew that when it came to the band, you and Noah had always been as one, and any disturbance to one pillar would inevitably shake the other.

As had happened before.

“I met someone who helped me with this dirty work, and I found it fascinatingly ironic when I discovered he’s a mutual acquaintance of ours: Seth Reigh,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your tone. “There aren’t many guys with that name in that city, especially one with an identical name in your history. Seth is one of Richmond’s best suppliers. But, to my surprise, it took me less than half an hour of digging to learn everything about him, including that he’s your stepfather. The same one who’s been hunting you like an animal for years since you ran away from home.”

How far could someone go when determined to own another at any cost? This was the dirtiest move you’d ever witnessed in your life, hitting you like a slap to the face. Hearing Seth’s name after nine years still made your body react the same way it had years ago. As if nothing had changed.

“All this time, you’ve been safe, with my men guarding each and every one of you. He could never reach you, couldn’t even come near you. But with just one call…”

“You’re the filthiest creature I’ve ever met!” you snapped, your jaw aching from holding back tears of rage.

“And you’ll learn to honor contractual clauses. If not for yourself—which I doubt since you don’t care about your own life—then for Noah’s. He’ll be terribly upset when he gets reported for illegal drug possession after his ex-girlfriend hid them among his things...” Gerard feigned a pitiful tone, as if thoroughly enjoying himself. “No love can withstand that, right?”

You already felt guilty for wrecking the life of the man you’d loved since the day your paths first crossed. Burdened by the mess of your cursed history, you couldn’t forgive yourself for dimming the light in his eyes over the years. You couldn’t be responsible for another.

As though he had managed to plant what he wanted in your mind, Gerard released your arm, the dried blood trailing faint marks where it had flowed. Your head still refused to process the moment, and like a shadow swept away by a lapse in time, he vanished from the room. But unfortunately, this time, it wasn’t a fabricated memory.

That conversation had actually happened.

The nurse brought your meal; everything looked anemic, tasteless, impossible to digest. You weren’t sure if the food was truly bad or if you just weren’t hungry, feeding on hate instead. Your fingers absentmindedly nudged the chicken piece back and forth on the plate, letting it roll alongside a green jelly that smelled like plastic.

“Hey.” A male voice whistled from the doorway, tapping twice before stepping in.

Your smile came unbidden, and he returned it as he walked toward you, hands tucked into his pockets. As always, a cap paired with the hood of his sweatshirt, he was dressed entirely in black and smelled so good you dared to think it was the first scent you’d noticed since waking up. Noah wore the same clothes as yesterday—he hadn’t gone home, hadn’t left you alone.

A restless kind of peace came with him, and he had no idea that it was exactly what you needed.

“As always, I’m giving you trouble…” you began, a little embarrassed, but his soft chuckle cut you off as he gently moved your leg aside to sit on the edge of the bed.

“That doesn’t matter, but I’d like to know how you’re feeling.” He sighed, glancing at the tray beside you. “Why haven’t you eaten yet?”

You just wrinkled your nose with a grimace that made him smile.

“Come on, at least a little, okay?” he coaxed, adjusting the tray in front of him. With infinite patience, he cut and gathered the food onto the utensil, then brought it toward you. “Watch out for the airplane!”

Stifling a laugh, you accepted the food and closed your mouth to chew. Determined not to upset him, you ate two more bites before he moved the tray aside again.

“I don’t know if you’re well enough for this, but I can’t think of a better time to have this conversation with you.” Noah hesitated, running his hands over his thighs and biting his lips before looking back at your face. “I promise that the person sitting here in front of you right now isn’t your work partner. It’s Noah. I don’t know if you even remember him, but he used to be yours.”

“Please…”

A warm sensation ran through your skin when he placed his hand over yours, his thumb tracing over the exposed bones.

“I know what it feels like to lose you, and I swear to God, it doesn’t compare to how I felt yesterday when I found you in that place.” Slowly, he raised his face, his dull, lifeless eyes brimming with emotion. His lips trembled, but his touch didn’t falter. “That was one of the most selfish things you’ve ever done, and believe me, you’re the most selfish person I know.”

As though it were an involuntary command from your body, a single tear fell from your left eye just after one rolled down his cheek.

“I’m so sorry for that.”

“I can’t take this torture anymore—being forced to watch you die. Every part of me rots along with you every time you choose to hate yourself this way because I’d never do that to you. I’d never treat you like that.” He looked up, gasping for air, before continuing. “So, if you still hate yourself too much to want help, do it for me. I’m still your biggest fan.”

Your chest felt like invisible strings were being pulled tighter and tighter, suffocating you. But you couldn’t expect much from yourself. Closing your eyes, you prayed for this moment not to be real, for it not to demand that you say the things that would break him again. But when you opened your eyes, he was still there, as vulnerable as the night you first kissed.

“Noah…”

“I’ve found good contacts. It’s not too far, the treatment would be short, and I’ve already planned to visit regularly and…”

He was talking so fast that he could barely hear himself.

“Noah, I don’t need help,” you blurted, closing your eyes again to avoid seeing the moment the words hit him.

“What?” he asked in disbelief, adjusting his position on the bed. “Do you have any idea what happened yesterday, or are you going to ignore it like you’ve been doing all these years?”

No one warns us that struggles with addiction are destructive not only to the user but to everyone around them, reducing their world to a single life—yours. No matter how much you try not to make it about you, they relentlessly, almost obsessively, pursue your cure, forgetting they’re deteriorating along the way. But who catches the strong one when they can no longer hold themselves up?

“I know I crossed a line yesterday, and that’s enough for me not to repeat it, but not enough to accept being admitted as if I’m some addict!” You didn’t even believe your own words, but you needed to hold your ground. “If you really cared about me like you say, you’d never suggest something like that!”

“You’re acting like you didn’t hear anything I said!” Noah pressed his hand against his thigh, preparing to stand, but you grabbed his wrist just in time to stop him.

Gently, you got to your knees on the bed and crawled toward him, feeling the wind from the window brush against your back, exposed by the hospital gown. Noah was breathing heavily, his face damp, his red, irritated eyes framed by strands of hair tucked behind his ears. He didn’t resist your touch as your hand cupped his cheek. Shutting his eyes, he moved slightly when you tilted his face, shaking his head as though the scene was something he had lived through before.

And in truth, he had.

"Hey, I'm still here, look at me!" you whispered, and after he refused once again, you opened your eyes, anguish etched into your face as your foreheads collided, breaths clashing. "There’s no one else in this world who knows me as well as you do, so give me one more chance when I say I’ll get it right this time. I want to be better. I want to be good again, but I can’t do that unless you believe in me. Unless, just once more, you believe in me, Noah."

Your voice held steady, resisting the urge to falter, and for a second, in his silence, you thought he was considering your words. The way he listened so intently, down to the rhythm of his breathing, made you hope. You couldn’t resist the subtle way your skin brushed against his, even though desperation lingered in the air.

But something shifted in his eyes. They darkened, fixing on you with an expression you had never seen before. Noah seemed to take every ounce of his accumulated weight—exhaustion, fury, repression—and throw it all down at once. Gripping the hand still resting on his face, he let it out.

"I. DO. NOT. BELIEVE. YOU." His voice was strong, firm, rough, and left no room for argument. He pronounced each word deliberately, not once breaking his gaze.

Noah shoved your hand away from his face as if it carried a contagious disease, and in the next moment, he stood up from the bed in a hurry. He turned back toward you, eyes scanning your frozen figure, still on your knees. It seemed to hurt him as much as it hurt you—evident in the way his breathing hitched, his chest visibly weighed down.

"If you really want another chance to fix things, then accept my help. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me and all the time I stood by your side, even when you least deserved it, even when I forgot the way back home." Noah insisted. "But if you don’t, I want you to forget I exist outside of the stage. I want to be dead to you, just as you will be dead to me the moment I walk through that door."

Though his words wavered with hesitation, they struck like a promise. Avoiding his gaze long enough to keep him from noticing your cracks, you lowered your head, offering him only silence in response.

But he would never understand.

"Hey..." Three heads peeked around the doorway, and both of you turned to see Folio, Jolly, and Ruffilo entering, pretending they hadn’t been eavesdropping just outside.

"Didn’t know we’d be walking into a funeral. We can come back later," Folio said with a flat smile, gesturing his thumb toward the hall.

"No need, boys. Noah was just leaving," you said with a friendly smile in their direction. From the corner of your eye, you saw him nod and storm out of the room like a furious bolt of lightning.

The trio exchanged glances, silently communicating in their own cryptic way before each of them found a spot on the bed, squishing together to keep you company. As the conversation flowed, you tried to distract yourself, even laughed at the absurdities spilling from their mouths, but your mind kept drifting back to the same place.

This was the first time you’d truly kept a promise to him.

You had finally broken his heart.

Once again.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lma1986 ; @chey-h ;

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sillylilyposting · 1 day ago

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youtube

Fusion is a SYMBOLIC REPRESENTATION of THE TWO CHARACTERS RELATIONSHIP

Metaphors don't have to replace shit you dumb fucking....

I am struggling to even begin to fucking put into words the flagrant wrongness of her ranting here..

Reflection isnt really a THING the way Lily says, An Example: A characters living space being dirty/in disrepair to reflect their poor mental state; Isn't reflection its symbolizing or symbolism, this is real basic like high school reading the great gatsby level shit here, its a... SYMBOLIC METAPHOR of an ABSTRACT state of mind in a physical manner in the media in question

Metaphors CAN exist alongside real literal meaning, in the example above their poor mental state IS as real as the squalor the person lives in that can have actual significants in the story beyond its metaphor or it equally doesn't need to (depending on the story your telling it may never come up again)

Relationships while can be generally understood are still ephemeral immaterial an abstract things meaning symbolizing them with physical stand in can make a good metaphor like fusion

Since I'm teaching here might as well say for anyone who don't know, similies are their own thing, done for description most often in text because unless you have narration or two characters yapping in a show/movie slipping in similies can be difficult (in my opinion)

Foil, a Foil? A character who contrasts the protagonist/other character in not just the straightforward sense but in themes and or motifs?

What does "Representative Concepts" mean lily? Could it perhaps be related to metaphors that are REPRESENTATIVE of SOMETHING ELSE?

All this is to say it becomes really easy for Lily to convince herself she is a good critic when she is content making up her own terms and definitions to concepts in writing and storytelling then acting like everyone else is dumb for not knowing this thing she made up 4 minutes ago which makes for a TERRIBLE critic and writer!

#lily orchard #lily orchard critical #lily orchard is a bad critic #lily orchard is a bad writer #lily use GOOGLE ONCE!#did she not pass highschool???#Youtube

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clegfly · 2 days ago

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PUTER MASTERPOST AT LAST!!!

If you’re one of the people that asked me for this, the wait is over!!

To my pleasant surprise since I started it puter has become probably the most popular thing I’ve made which I’m SO grateful for… so, I thought it only fair to give the people what they ask for and make a full master post compiling all the content I’ve made for the au thus far!! This will be updated as I post, hopefully.

Keep in mind that puter is still a work in progress, so there will be a lot that doesn’t work or make sense yet, but trust me, I’m working on it! Remember, patience is key!!

So, without further ado, here it is!!!

Quick Summary

For anyone wondering what puter actually is, here’s the gist:

Following the events of OMORI’s neutral ending (specifically the one in which basil dies… specific variation of THAT isn’t too key at the moment but that might change for plot reasons…), five years after the move, with some help from his mother, sunny is improving… very slightly. In fact, he’s had enough motivation to pull together a shitty little flash game, fuelled by his past passion for them. He’s still not fully all there, and he still spends most of his time in headspace asleep, but now he has SOMETHING to work on outside of it, and it’s giving him the slightest reason and encouragement to wake up each morning. The slightest.

And, notably, one of the characters in said shitty flash game is actually based on Mari… Even when he isn’t really trying to, he ends up putting her in the game anyway, because he wants mari to be safe, and he’s so consumed by guilt and regret that he feels obliged to make her in worlds where she can be okay. Another sort of subconscious way of both immortalising her and apologising to her in another fun, perfect world of his design, where no harm can befall her, and everything is perfect. He didn’t kill her. They never argued. Mari is okay. Mari is fine, again. He’s sorry. He’s so, so sorry.

However… this stand in mari character actually gains sentience and becomes self aware, convincing itself that it truly is mari… leading to a LOT of stuff. We call her “mariware” over here, by the way!

The au’s actual storyline takes place years after this, following kel after he visits sunny’s mother five years after his mysterious suicide, and possessing a flash drive containing her son’s game… and, as we know, something else.

As stated like thirty times at this point… VERY work in progress!!! But I do have most of it figured out… though I’m not sure how to convey it as an actual story yet… but that will come with time, I’m sure!!!

Lore/ Canon Posts

Posts I’ve made for puter which are actual pieces I’ve put thought into and are canonical to the au. Have fun!!

ERHUSGKSCAE UEGGVXAE

SILBVRUW

IHX UEPJMCE

BUKLIEGV!

ULTAL QTMKE

UUG

Doodles/ Sketches

Here is where you can find all my non-canon doodles and sketches for the au!!

Concept art

Awful dithering test

Cleg gets the artstyle right for the first time

Click and drag

Antivirus

Club penguin

Kel design concept sketch

Microsoft paint

Mariware bromine brush 1

Mariware bromine brush 2

Mariware boingoingoingoing

Wrong

Fries

She wants to KILL

Heromari

Get a job bozo

Sir this is a Wendy’s

Teaser

IHX IVPJMKEL

…

…huh? Is something else meant to be here?…

…

…maybe it’s not ready yet.

#omori #omori au #omori mari #omori sunny #omori hero #omori basil #omori kel #omori aubrey #mariware #puter au #masterpost #if you spot any mistakes PLEASE let me know!!! thank you so much for all the support #genuinely I appreciate it all so much more than I can express <3 #heromari #also. also secrets here #as you may have guessed if you’re a puter regular JEJSOSKSK #it’s a cipher I’ve used before so it’s hopefully easy enough to figure out!!! good luck!!!!

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lov3-from-loserlane · 2 days ago

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Qiu Lin character/enneagram analysis

@onelastskip thank you so much for the request!

I did have every intention of making this write up, sorry it took so long!! Unfortunately a lot of my hard ““evidence”” comes from beta and other patreon exclusive content, but I can absolutely write a more generalized and theoretical response about Qiu’s enneagram. And I literally just replayed the prologue yesterday so it is freshhh.

(I also love the enneagram, I prefer it over MBTI. Great minds think alike ;) )

And if you’re a newbie to the enneagram, don’t worry! I’ll be thorough with my explanations, so you should be able to follow along. Verrrrrry thorough hahahhaah. This post is literally over 2k words.

But! Just think about this as a general character analysis through the lense of the enneagram. It’ll be at least kind of interesting and fun, I promiseeee 😉🤞

So, anyway, let’s get started then.

I typed Qiu as a 3w2 sx/so

So what does this mean?

I believe that Qiu is an enneagram 3 with a 2 wing. The instinctual variants for their enneagram being sx and so. I’ll explain what that all means later on, but we’ll start with just about the basic description of the enneagram.

Enneagram 3 Description

The Enneagram is a personality theory that aims to describe the most vulnerable parts of ourselves, our hopes, our fears, our motivations, and potentially our trauma. It’s how we see the world and make sense of our emotions.

So then, what does it mean to be an enneagram 3?

Well, 3s in their most basic form, can be understood this way:

The enneagram 3 is defined by their need to differentiate themselves from other people through their accomplishments and can appear incredibly ambitious and goal oriented. 3s like to keep themselves busy, and their schedules are usually jam-packed with things to do. They’re very charismatic and acutely aware of the correct polite conduct. They make it a point to make good first impressions. 3s do not believe that they are inherently worthy of being loved, however, and that being loved comes as a result of what they can achieve. 3s fear their own irrelevancy, and are driven by a need for attention and admiration.

I’m sure you noticed that some of that description does fit Qiu! However, there’s a lot that *doesn’t* which probably stood out, and needs to addressed.

Like, what’s this about being super goal-oriented, ambitious, and needing to be successful? Nothing about Qiu, from what we’ve seen, proves that to be true about them.

Those of you who know the enneagram may even be thinking, “well, what about enneagram 2? They’re also people oriented, want to be liked and appreciated, and then we don’t have to worry about the fact that Qiu doesn’t seem necessarily ambitious or goal-oriented on being successful.”

Well, I kinda mislead you there. Because I think Qiu is very ambitious and goal-oriented, just not in the way we traditionally think about these concepts. Usually we think a person with these traits aims to someday have a high paying job, invent something new, do something genius that’ll get them celebrated worldwide or accumulate a comfortable amount of wealth. Which doesn’t sound like Qiu at all. But that’s not the only way this desire can be exhibited.

Instinctual Variants:

Thats where the instinctual variants of the enneagram come in. Instinctual variants are basically just subtypes of the enneagram, different ways in which the same enneagram can be presented. And it’s a part of enneagram that is relatively more unknown, but can actually be a huge help in figuring out which enneagram applies to you/a character. (So if you’re into enneagram at all, I recommend checking them out! Fair warning: the instinctual variants can really delve into the worst possible version of your psyche in a lot of cases, so be prepared for that. Be honest with yourself.)

Anyway, the instinctual variants are abbreviated as “sx”, “so”, and “sp”. These stand for “sexual”, “social”, and “self-preserving”, respectively.

I typed Qiu as a sexual 3. NOW CHILL cause before you come at me “sexual” doesn’t LITERALLY mean sexual, sexuality, sex, etc. I mean in some cases it can definitely be related, but it does not mean that inherently. And that’s not what I’m gonna be talking about with Qiu like at all. I don’t know why they called it that, I didn’t make it up. I just read about it and then apply it to fictional characters in my tumblr posts 😪

But anyway, the sx 3 can often times not look like a traditional 3, which would make Qiu a little difficult to type as a 3 initially. But once you get into the description of the sx 3, it starts to become more clear.

Sx 3s aren’t so much focused on making achievements in the real world so much as they are on pleasing others and creating an appealing image around themselves. They extract feelings of accomplishment from the happiness and success of the people around themselves. Unlike other 3s, sx 3s aim to connect to others mentally through supporting them. They expend much of their energy for the sake of other people, and they’re hardworking and ambitious in this way. They don’t necessarily feel the need for tangible achievement like other 3s. They love, admiration, and desire of others is enough for them. They are unconventional achievers in this way. Sexual 3s have a very community driven mentality, where they’re always looking out for the greater good of the whole team.

They can also often times feel the need to play into the role of an easily digestible feminine or masculine image, depending on how they were assigned at birth 😳 Whichhhh I want to yank a quote from the beta moment “fancy fun” for this so bad. But you’re just gonna have to guess what I’m talking about if you played it. And if you haven’t, I’m sorry 😔‼️ but I do feel like this point can be somewhat inferred from the demo, if only abstract based on how Qiu conducts themself.

Now, the enneagram 2’s flavor of wanting to be “likeable” isn’t necessarily rooted in being admired and looked up to. In a lot of ways, it’s the opposite. The enneagram 2 wants to be useful and needed by others. Qiu may feel like they are useful and that they are needed, but that’s not necessarily what they’re looking for. Qiu at the end of the day just wants for people think they’re cool and kind and the best friend ever. Which is why I don’t think they are a 2, they simply have a 2 wing. (The wing just being another thing that indicates what way the enneagram presents itself).

So yeah, I think sx 3 is the perfect fit for Qiu. Because while they don’t necessarily need to be revered for any personal accomplishments, (only rarely taking the opportunity to brag, and if they do it’s played off more or less as a joke) they do however have this intense need to be liked as a person and looked up to for that reason.

Childhood Wound:

Another way we can infer somebody’s enneagram would be based on their “childhood wound.” In enneagram, this would be the root of where this person’s enneagram would come from. Meaning yes, a person’s enneagram is established during their childhood years and does not change.

The childhood wound of the enneagram 3 is as follows:

(Screenshotted from a deleted user on Reddit)

Based on some information given in the QnAs on patreon, we can infer that this is true of Qiu’s childhood. But I also believe it can be inferred by public content as well.

Based on how Qiu conducts themself, I don’t think kids in Golden Grove ever really appreciated Qiu for being Qiu. People liked them because they were expending themselves for the sake of others, trying their best to include everybody and putting on this “act” of being cool about everything. They actively minimize their own needs/boundaries while being hyper aware of everyone else’s. This made them likable, which made them popular, which made them a high commodity to their classmates.

We also kind of get this in the explanation for Baxter’s crush on Qiu. Baxter could have liked Qiu genuinely, I’m not discounting that at all, after all he was one of their closest friends in childhood. However, the way he goes about rationalizing it to himself is this:

(Screenshotted from the GBPatch tumblr)

“You’re popular, so why shouldn’t I like you.” And it’s safe to assume a lot of other people felt the same way about Qiu, whether it be related to a crush or completely platonically. It was this sort of self fulfilling prophecy where Qiu tried their best to live up to the expectations of others, which made them even more desirable to people, which made them feel they had to become subservient to these expectations, which made people want them all the more. And in a way, they themselves kinda wanted that. They actively seek out that kind of attention and feel fulfilled when it’s received. But not to this extreme of a point, as we can see in Step 2.

What about Step 2?!:

That brings us to one glaring problem some may already be considering. Qiu’s personality in Step 2. It seems to have taken a complete 180 from how they were in Step 1.

In Step 2, the last thing Qiu wants is attention or to be around people at all. They could seemingly care less if they’re liked which can be observed in how they treat Tamarack’s concerns about their litter in the current Step 2 preview. They straight up disregard her feelings completely, and not politely. Qiu really just wants to hide away from it all and not be bothered. And if the enneagram is developed during childhood and then never changes, wouldn’t it be better to find something that also encompasses that side of them? Maybe they’re not a 3, or even a 2!

Weeeeeell ackshually ☝️🤓, I think enneagram 3 is still very applicable to Step 2 Qiu, but there’s not much I can say about that *definitively* at the moment.

However, we do have this description of Step 3 Qiu to work off of:

(Screenshotted from the GBPatch tumblr)

So obviously, Qiu’s presentation in Step 2 isn’t all that it seems. Qiu is actively *going against* their true nature during Step 2 for one reason or another. My best guess would have to be that they feel they previously let their identity rely too heavily on the needs of the people around them, and that notion freaks them out. So even if, in a way, their true identity DOES revolve around what they can be for others, they also want to make sure there’s a real, individual, person in there somewhere. Maybe in a twisted and fucked up way you can suggest that it is in fact because our culture heavily celebrates and looks up to that kind of individuality. Like, we as a society can consider it an admirable quality to be an outcast for the things that make us unique. That could potentially be added motivation. But thatssssssss really pushing it kind of and I’m talking out of my ass a little bit. So I’ll leave it there. 🥱

Either way, we can conclude that in Step 2 Qiu is not at all a “completely different person,” I don’t really think that’s even possible, and tbh I hope people don’t believe that about them. But I do think that they are actively *trying* to be. Which is sooooo 3, in a way (I sound like an astrology girl heheh >:3) But yeah, as a young teen, you think you know you want a lot of things. And then when you grow up, you realize that’s not what you actually wanted in the first place.

Side tangent, this is also why I loveee the idea of playing the game with jealousy/envy turned on for Qiu. I just feel like it’s so natural to their arc, but that’s just my own personal interpretation/preference.

But anyway, that’s how I came to my conclusion, Qiu is an enneagram 3w2!

Conclusion:

Let me once again reiterate that this is literally pseudoscience, so there isn’t an end all be all. You could totally think I was wrong and have your own ideas, and we could all totally be wrong and right and the same time together. I just do this stuff for fun, cause I think it’s cool and interesting and helps me better understand both my favorite characters in fiction and the viewpoints of people completely different from me ^_^

If you read this, I honestly CANNOT thank you enough, seriously. Because wow this post was crazy and long and insane and insanely crazy long. And I feel like I’m really bad and disorganized when it comes to explaining things. But I appreciate it if you did take an interest! I hope you were entertained and learned something new.

Qiu was specifically requested, and this post is long enough as it is. And that’s without all the beta and patreon stuff, which then we could be here for hours getting into the nitty gritty details. But anyway, I would love to do a separate analysis on Tamarack’s enneagram next. Though spoiler alert, her’s will be a lot moreeeee theoretical and hard to explain T~T I’m sure that would be super fun for me to attempt though HAHA. So if you’d be interested in that, let me know! And if you wouldn’t, too bad because I’ll probably do it anyway!

(PS. I tried to make sure not to give away anything directly related to content only included in the patreon. But, if I made a mistake, please let me know and I will edit it out of the post immediately!)

My references:

#Ame rants about shit only she cares about #Ame is Nuts #typology #enneagram #Qiu Lin #olnf #our life now and forever

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